Slipping away
by smileypiano
Summary: Arthur and Gwen AU. Read and Review, please.
1. Chapter 1

_Yum. Juicy, delicious, perfectly cooked chicken. I mean, what more could a man ask for?_

_The lemonade was great, too. Refreshing, cool, and dripping down my face..._

"Arghhhh! MORGANA!" I scream as ice-cold lemon juice drips down my face. My wonderful dream drips down with it.

"Hey, little brother. Time to wake up." She flashes me a grin before dropping her gaze down again to her phone. Texting her boyfriend who's another weird I-don't-need-sleep vampire.

She's always doing this to me. Waking me up at the break of dawn _everyday._

Even on weekends and holidays, which puts our nice sibling relationship a _little _bit on the edge. You know, just a little bit._  
_

"It's a bank holiday, dear sister, or have you forgotten? Again?" I growl through gritted teeth.

"Oh no, Arthur, not this time. I know it is. And last time I just pretended I'd forgotten."

Arghhhhh.

I kind of regret my decision three years ago when I decided to move out of my father's cosy mansion where you can sleep until noon, and move into my crazy sister's mangy apartment where getting three hours of sleep a day is heaven.

But now I can't return because my father feels this weird kind of betrayal thing. He thinks I chose Morgana over him, which isn't necessarily true. I chose, what I thought to be a cool partying and the fun of living-with-your-older-sister thing over wearing suits everyday and playing golf with the butler.

Obviously my expectations weren't _exactly_ the truth.

Groaning, I delve under my covers, finding them freezing and wet, which, trust me, is not a marvelous feeling when you're brain's still asleep even if your body isn't.

I swear, I'm surprised I haven't turned into a sleepless psycho like her already, what with three years of waking up to finding either insects or food, or something else even more disturbing on my face.

Once, I even woke up breathing down her bra and knickers. _Not _the ones she was wearing right then though. The ones she'd worn just the day before.

Oh, and not to mention that she has a one-person-rock-party every night with the same song with the volume _right _up. And she has a boombox.

No wonder I was diagnosed for mild depression last year. And the bit of lemon pulp stuck up my left nostril is not improving my mood.

* * *

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, I leave the house, feeling much better.

I must admit, I'm actually looking forward to my daily coffee morning with Leon today. Feel like something's going to happen.

I walk over to my Ferrari. The one Father bought me four years ago. So I guess it is pretty old. But it hasn't changed a bit since the day I got it.

I guess there is one advantage of living with Morgana.

All my possessions get a annual spring clean. A serious spring clean. So that they all look as if they've just come out from the shops.

All due to Morgana's magic. Hmmph.

Damn. Left my car keys back in the apartment. I don't usually forget things easily but today was pretty busy.

Should I go back?

Whatever. I'd rather take the bus and stand among a crowd of sweaty people than go back in there. Back to the sister from hell.

Flagging down the next bus going into Kingston, I get on and look for a seat.

It looks pretty full, like it usually is in the rush-hour.

I climb over toddlers and babies and try to look for a seat.

There always is one left, usually at the back.

Aha. One last one over there at the back. See.

There's a girl over there who looks pretty cute too. Her hand does anyway. Can't see the rest of her. It's all covered by a giant black coat that's it obviously too big for her.

Flopping myself next to her, I wait for her to turn around and give me a flirty look and say some cliched pick-up line she's seen on some chick flick.

That's how the ladies usually react when I'm around. Not boasting or anything.

"Hey." After minutes of seriously awkward silence, I couldn't help myself. When a girl does not even glance my way or say something, it intrigues me. I mean, I saw her look at me as I sat down next to her.

"Hey." She replies with a quick glance. Too quick to see her face.

I'll give it another go anyway. I like mysterious women.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine." Right, we're getting better. Two-word answers now.

Now I know what it feels like to be a primary school teacher.

"Do you normally talk to someone with your back to them?" I wasn't going to ask that but I'm one of those people whose mouths have a life of their own. And have an even crazier life of their own when they're around women.

There's a pause and then she turns around slowly, or maybe it's just me, like in those typical chick-flicks where they reveal themselves to be drop-dead gorgeous with long platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes. But in real life they never turn out like that. The girls I meet who try that move out always turn out to be ugly with pimples on their foreheads and mustaches on their upper lip. Charming.

She's turned around to face me, but her hood's still kind of hiding just about her entire face.

She pauses a minute then peels her hood off.

She lifts her head and as she meets my eyes, I feel as though all the breath in my body has left me.

In that moment, it's as if all my worries about Morgana, my life, my doubts, my problems, all seem to wash away as her gaze sweeps over me, like a warm breeze.

In that moment, I feel complete.

Then suddenly, she stands up and walks away, down the aisle, out of the door, out of my sight.

Gone.

* * *

"What's the matter with you today, shortie?" Leon pokes me with a straw as we sit in our usual window seats in Costa. "You've gone all quiet on me today."

"It's nothing. And don't call me shortie- I'm only 4 inches shorter than you."

"Yeah, shortie." He grins and takes a sip of his cocoa. "What is it, man? Come on, spill. You still not got over getting dumped by Mithian?"

"I'm the one who dumped her, Leon."

"Oh, yeah. I knew that." He pauses for a minute. His amazing intellect probably can't handle too much information at once. "Then what is it? Have you got a girlfriend?"

Yeah, like I would tell Leon, out of all people. He'd probably tell the whole world.

"Hey, people! What you doing inside on this marvellous day?" Gwaine suddenly appears out of nowhere with his floppy shampoo commercial hair waving in the non-existent wind as always.

"You've claimed another victim today haven't you, Gwaine." Gwaine's only happy when he's got two girls in his bed. Yes, two girls, not one, like the rest of us sane men. Seriously, I have the strangest friends- if you can call them that.

"Yeeeeep. Two actually." See. Told you so. "They're sisters, actually. Poppy and Polly." Okay, now _this _I did not predict. But knowing Gwaine, they're probably not the first pair of siblings he's picked up. I think I vaguely remember a pair of cousins a couple of months back. Whatever, keeping up with Gwaine's girlfriends is like a snail trying to keep up with Usain Bolt. Impossible.

"What? Man, that's gross." Leon pulls a face, looking frighteningly close to how Vivian looked when Morgana put a worm in her bed. Not a pretty sight.

"So? They are still girls. With female parts. That I plan on making full use of." Gwaine flashes another of his infuriating grins that somehow make girls kiss his feet but make us want to punch his smug face off.

"Okay, Gwaine you are just grossing me out now. Can't you see I am eating?"

"No shortie, you're drinking." I feel the familiar heat rising to my head now. The same heat I feel whenever I'm around Gwaine. What people call ANGER and FRUSTRATION.

"Shortie? Gwaine, you're shorter than me."

"In height? Maybe. But when it comes to the sex chart? Mine is _so _much taller than yours."

"You two keep sex charts? Is that a new craze now? Arthur, I thought you've only been in bed with a girl twice."

"Yeah, well-"

"Women, only twice. But men, probably _a lot _more..."

"GWAINE!"

All the other customers in the shop are staring and starting to leave now. Can't say I blame them. An dumbass, idiot and a sex freak, I can't say that I wouldn't leave if I were them.

"Okay, okay, Arty, you're not gay then." He suddenly looks at me. "You seriously bedded only two girls?"

"GWAINE!" This guy is seriously getting on my nerves now.

"Fine, fine, keep you hair on, mate. Why you so touchy today?"

"I-"

"He has a girlfriend."

"No I don't! Look-"

"Ha, I knew it. Well, Leon, who is the lucky girl?"

"He won't tell. But I'm guessing it's a blondie. You know the thing he has for blondies." Whadttt? Since when? Okay, all the girls I've dated may have been blondes but that doesn't mean I have a thing for them.

"Yeah, he can't keep away from them."

"Guys, you know I _am _still here."

"Yeah, yeah, man. Sorry. Tell us then. Who's the lucky girl? Spill, spill. You know how good I am at keeping secrets, right?" Yeah, as good as you are keeping girls out of your pants, Gwaine.

"Yeah, come on, Arthur, tell us. Gwaine told you about his."

"Fine. She's a girl."

"Well, I guessed that, mate. What's her name?"

"Dunno."

"You don't know her name?!"

"No. But she's really pretty. And she's not blonde."

"Well, she probably is but there's no point going for her pretty bum if you don't know her name. It's like... getting on a plane without knowing the destination."

"That was a really bad example, L'Oreal man.."

"Shut up, big boy, he didn't really give me much time to think."

"Guys, I'll find out her name. By next week." What?! Why did I say that? I told you I was a speak-before-I-think kind of person.

"I bet a fiver he can't."

"I bet a tenner he can." Well, I must admit, Leon sounds much more confident than I feel at the moment.

He just doesn't know that her kind are the type who men never find unless they're lucky.

And one thing I'm sure of is that I'm never lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

It's Tuesday. Three days after The Bus Ride. So off to work I go.

I take the bus today, for a change. I normally drive there but, you never know, the brown-eyed goddess might be on the bus. And I can't really take any chances.

I don't know I'm so desperate to get to know her. It's usually the other way round. The girl is desperate to find out about me- what I like, favorite food, sport etc. Only I mislead her and she ends up doing everything I hate. Ha. Quite funny watching it, though.

It's different with this one though.

Maybe because she is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

Or maybe cos she was so cool with me. As if she didn't care that I was Arthur Pendragon and the most handsome man in England (not boasting, of course). And that most girls would die to be in her place. Next to me on the bus.

Which she unfortunately isn't today, but I still have 6 days left. Enough time.

"Arthur." A deep voice startles my thoughts. Oh, it's daddy dearest.

"Good morning, Father."

"What were you so deep in thought about?"

"Oh... just... what I'm going to do today, umm, at work." That was such a lame excuse.

"You find another girl then?" He reads me like a book.

"Uhhh... kind of."

"When did you see her?" This is getting kind of inappropriate for a father-son conversation.

"Yesterday." Why am I even answering?

"Is she... how do you young people say it... hot?" Oh good lord, this conversation is practically head-diving into awkwardness. Escape before he digs it out of me.

"Father I-"

"Sir, there's a minor problem with the documentation on the system. It seems one of the files have been replaced. You should head over there right now." Ahhh, Linda, my father's secretary, my hero. It's not the first time she's managed to get me out of sticky situations like these. I should repay her someday. I owe her too much already.

I head towards the lift and press the button.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1... Aha. Oh no.

"We meet again, Arthur Pendragon."

Vivian.

"Hi, Vivi."

"Don't call me Vivi."

"I called you that the last time we met and you didn't seem to mind then."

"That was before you dumped me! By voicemail!" Ah. That's what she's upset about. "You could have at least come to me and dump me face to face. By text, if not! But- voicemail!" Women. Seriously.

"Sorry..?"

"I doesn't matter to me anyway. I don't care." Obviously.

"Uh, well, then, it's my floor. Bye." I scoot out of the lift as fast as I can before she pulls me back and gives me another lashing.

I walk to my office, the first one on the right, and start my normal everyday routine.

Sit down, get out client files and start working.

* * *

Another boring day of a woman shouting at me for not being able to put her husband in prison. Even though that's not even for me to decide. Stupid lady.

I walk towards the bus stop then realize I've left my jacket behind.

I'll just have to go back and get it.

I trudge back and a bus trundles past me. Great. It'll be ages till the next one.

Wait. In the window.

It's that girl I saw a couple of days ago sitting right there in the same place she was last time. Aha, gotcha!

Ah, well, not yet, not until I actually get the bus. I guess I'll have to run.

I hate running for the bus. Not the running bit, although I hate that too, but the conclusion which is either me getting all sweaty and mank or me missing the bus altogether. Either way, I get humiliated. So yeah, I guess that's kind of the reason why I normally take the car. Saves a lot of humiliation for me.

Thank goodness for traffic. Only a couple of metres left till I get there.

Woo...hoo...

Panting furiously, not to mention the uncontrollable sweat that seems to be pouring down my forehead, I flag down the bus and drag myself on.

All that for a girl. A girl whose name I don't even know. It better be worth it.

I wobble towards the back, my legs now all numb and just moving by themselves. I plonk myself down on the seat next to her and wipe my sweat off with my sleeve.

"You really shouldn't do that, you know." Wha...? Oh, it's that girl. But she's kind of looking at me in a you-look-really-disgusting-and-I'd-rather-be-sitti ng-next-to-a-dung-beetle-than-you kind of face.

I'll answer anyway. If it means it'll increase my chances with her. "Par... *pant* don?"

"It makes your sleeve go all mucky and horrible. Because you're wearing a white shirt, it'll be worse. And you can't even remove it if you don't wash it off immediately."

"Uhhh... right. Thanks for the tip." I take my sleeve away and reach for my hanky. Oh yeah. It's in my jacket.

"Here." A hanky. How did she know? She's not even looking at me anymore.

I wipe my forehead with it and contemplate whether to give it back or not. It's gone kind of smelly and grimy now, so giving it back is a definite no-no. But keeping it isn't a really good idea either.

"I'll just wash it, it's fine." What is she, a mind-reader? "Are you just going to keep it then?"

"Oh, sorry, here you go."

"Thanks." She turns her back to me again and obviously decided to stop talking.

I'll start it this time then. "I'm Arthur." It's kind of weird putting my hand out to a person's back, but I have done weirder things, I guess.

She doesn't move for a while then turns around, looks at my hand for a moment, then shakes it.

She has really soft hands. Clean and nice, long fingers with short nails. And her grip is nice and firm- in a very feminine way.

"I'm Guinevere. Nice to meet you." So that was her name. Guinevere. I like how it spirals around in my mouth and rolls off my tongue.

"I saw you a couple of days ago, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"You were quite rude then, you know."

She pauses, then look around at me steadfastly. "Well excuse me, but strangers don't usually come up to me and start asking me random questions that I'd rather not answer. If a person wants to talk, they'd say something, and if they don't, they wouldn't! And I'm pretty sure I gave you enough signs to show you that I was NOT INTERESTED in having a conversation with you! Any normal person would know that, unless, of course, they are an arrogant, conceited, self-centred, interfering git like you are!"

She pants for a bit and stands up. "Sorry." With that she leaves.

Wow. She certainly had a lot on her mind.

Two lashings in one day- one from an ex-girlfriend and one from a future one. I'm considering the latter actually, if I should rethink about going out with her.

If it means her shouting at me everyday like she did just now, I think I'll just go back to Vivian.

She was easier to go out with. Whenever she's angry just flatter her a bit and kiss her feet and she comes back to you in like, 2 seconds.

But thinking about it now, maybe there was a bit of truth to her words. Maybe I was a little rude. Okay, maybe a lot.

I guess I was a little inconsiderate to how she must have felt. Maybe it was a bad day for her.

Anyhow, there's a little voice inside of my head saying _Give her another go._

I want to.

Because despite our umm... miscommunication, I feel something.

Hope.

A tiny ray of hope.

But hope is like a mustard seed. Tiny at first, but when it grows, it is beautiful and yielding.

And I like that. I want to have it.

* * *

So I call Gwaine and Leon the next day and tell them about the news. Obviously not the bit about her shouting at me. I'll get on to that later.

I arrive at the cafe a little late and the guys bombard me with questions.

Mainly about "Have you tapped her yet?" (Gwaine)

"Can try her out now you've done with her?" (Leon)

I shove them away and order myself a hot fudge latte. Yum.

"So shortie, did you find out her name?"

Why are they so eager? Oh yeah, nearly forgot. They bet on it didn't they.

"Yeah."

"Yesss! C'mon L'Oreal man, hand over the money. C'mon, c'mon."

"You asshole." Gawine mutters before handing over 50 quid in cash.

"Woah, I thought it was a fiver or something."

"Gwaine raised the price cos he was so confident you couldn't get it."

"Thanks for your infallible trust in me, Gwaine."

"Hmphh. What's her name then?" he grunts.

"Guinevere."

"Phrpt- Hahahaha!" Leon spews half of his muffin onto Gwaine's face and starts laughing like a madman.

"What?"

"Don't you get it? You're Arthur. She's Guinevere. Arthur and Guinevere." Oh, right, yeah. That old legend about Arthur and his round knights or something. Guinevere was his queen, if I remember correctly.

"Doesn't Lancelot come between them?" I don't know why this detail suddenly pops up. I've never thought about it before.

"Not in the original. He's not even there until the later on version by Chretien de Troyes of Francais." Oh, I feel a bit better now.

"Geek. How do you know those things? Probably cos you spend all day in your room reading trash like that instead of having some real manly experience." Manly experience? Judging by the look on Leon's face, he's obviously thinking the same thing.

"At least I can apply the things I know to everyday life. All you do is have 'manly experience' which makes you macho man on the outside but a stupid dumbass on the inside!"

"Bunch of girls, you are. Fighting over something like that."

"I'm leaving." Gwaine's a man on the outside but a big wussy on the inside. Well, that's one less friend to worry about then.

As he leaves, Leon looks at me skeptically.

"You don't seem to be very upset. You did say Gwaine was your best friend didn't you?"

"Leon, you're my best friend too. I can't take sides."

"You just did."

"Well, maybe I like you better."

"Okay, what have you done?"

"Nothing!"

"Come on, man, I know you better than you know yourself."

"_I _didn't do anything. _She _did though."

"What?"

"She shouted at me."

"You must've done something wrong, then." Why do people always assume that? If a person shouts at me, I'm not the victim, they are. How does this make sense?

Okay I probably need to tell him about the 'incident' with Guinevere now. The shouting thing.

I can't. It will lower my reputation.

Just say it- if you can't say it to your best friend of 21 years, who can you say it to? "Okay, I kind of got on her nerves. That was it."

"Probably wasn't, but whatever. I know you'll never say. Are you still going to go for her? Or did you say you were going to stop meeting her and I didn't hear?" For a moment there I thought I was conversing with a normal man. Obviously not.

"I didn't say anything about going for her or anything."

"Yeah but- Oh woo~hoo ding dong merrily on high!"

"What?"

"Look at that girl who's just come in. She's in the table right behind us. Such a babe. My hormones are practically calling out to her." What? If Leon's this mad about a girl, she must be a little bit pretty at least. I take my phone out and look through the reflection.

Turning around will look desperate and I don't do desperate. That is, if I don't have to.

I casually, go to the camera app and go to front camera mode.

I slowly angle my head so it doesn't get caught in the way.

Nearly there, nearly there- ah, I can see her face-

"Arghhhh!" I nearly drop my phone in shock.

It's her. Guinevere. From the bus. In a different outfit but _definitely _her.

"What is it, shortie?" Leon looks at me worriedly and pokes my arm.

"It's her."

"Who?"

My voice is almost a whisper now. "Guinevere, that's her."


	3. Chapter 3

Well, this is certainly not the luckiest of days for me.

Leon nudges me again and waggles his eyebrows at Guinevere. Luckily her hood is down so she can't see him acting like Mr Bean.

He pokes me whispers, "Do you want me to go? You know, have 'quality time' with her and all."

"Leon, seriously, I do not need any more 'quality time' with her. I have had enough."

"Oooh, Arthur. I get it, mate, I get it." He taps his nose in a, what he thinks is a enigmatic way, but just looks to me as if he's trying to get a giant bogey out of it.

"Leon, you are misunderstanding me."

"Oh no, shortie, I get what you mean. I guess I'll just leave now BECAUSE I'VE FINISHED MY COFFEE." And subtle's your middle name.

"Leon, look, don't go." He leaves with a giant smile on his face. "FINE JUST GO AND LEAVE ME YOU ARSEHOLE!" Oops. Came out a bit louder than intended.

I sit down slowly and avoid everybody's eyes. They probably took it the wrong way. I shouldn't have said 'leave me'. They'll think I'm gay now.

I sip my latte quietly and look around. She's still there. Having a frappe. Good choice. I love frappes.

I take a giant slurp of my drink.

Forgetting it was still hot. "Erghahhhhhhhh!" Water. Water. NEED WATER.

I look to the menu. Why does water have to be so expensive?

Aha, the toilet. Toilet = Free water.

I practically bound over to the loo, my mouth still burning. I burst into the toilet and head straight for the basin.

Ahhhhh. That's better. My tongue doesn't feel like the inside of hell anymore. So cool. Oh no, now it's freezing a bit.

I turn the tap off and wipe my mouth on my sleeve.

I look up to the mirror and check my poor tongue for any redness.

Not too bad. Thank goodness I didn't drink too much. Otherwise I wouldn't be Arthur the red-nosed reindeer, I'd be Arthur the red-tongued reindeer.

And it's not really nice when snogging either. Makes everything really sore.

Hmm. Snogging. With luck, I'll be doing it 24/7 after a couple of days wooing gorgeous Guinevere.

Ooh. Nature calls.

Damn, the loos are all full. Doesn't matter, I'm not that desperate. I'll wait patiently by the basins.

10 seconds. Okay. I'm patient. Mr Oh-so Patient.

30 seconds. Alright, not so patient now.

50 seconds. Do men usually take this long? I'm sure I don't. All I do pull my flies down, pee, pull my flies up and come out. Done in less than 15 seconds.

110 seconds. Arghhhh. What is wrong with them? Does this cafe sell coffee with steroids that make you want to pee more or something? Otherwise I have no idea why they are taking centuries emptying their bladder.

Oh, yes, one of them's coming out now.

He's such an... old granny?

Oh, poor dear, she probably misread the sign on the door. Well, I better tell her before anyone else finds her and makes her feel embarrassed.

I go up to her and tap her on the shoulder. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I think you're in the wrong toilet." As polite as I can manage.

She squints at me and smiles. "No, deary, I think you're in the wrong toilet." She gives me a gap-toothed grin and goes back to washing her hands.

Whatever. As if I care. If it's anyone who'll get humiliated, it'll be her, not me.

I walk into the cubicle and lock the door.

Ahhhhhhhhh. That's better. I reach for the tissue holder. It's a little different from normal tissue holders, it's like a box with a little slit at the bottom.

I take one of the tissues out. They're wrapped, in little plastic pouches. What on earth...? I open it. The thing inside is certainly not a tissue. It looks like a slip of spongy thing. I swear I've seen one of these, before.

Oh yes, I remember, I found one on my face a couple of months ago. What did Morgana say?

_It's that time of the month._

Oh man. It's not what I think it is, is it? I scream inside.

I am in the wrong toilet. I knew I should've checked before running in.

The person next door flushes and leaves.

I flush and start to unlock the door when I here the outside door swing open and close as another person comes in.

Great timing. I can't bloody well go out now.

I stand on the toilet and peek over the toilet door. If it's another granny, I'll just go out.

I squint. I can just make out her reflection in the mirror.

A dark hood. She raises her head.

Guinevere?

Suddenly, she lifts her eyes and meet mine in the reflection.

"Bus boy? Arthur?"

I quickly duck down and close my eyes.

"Is that you in there?"

I stay as still as a statue, just hoping that she goes away.

I quietly step on the toilet lid again and peek over. Oh good. She's gone.

I open the door and wash my hands.

"I knew it was you." Wahhhhh. Oh my god, this woman is scary. Where'd she come from?

"Oh. Ummm. You. Hi." In my utter humiliation, I seem to have lost the ability to form more than one word at a time.

"Why are you in the ladies?"

"Drink. Hot. Cold." I mumble.

"What?" She peers at me.

"My drink, was, umm, hot, and the basin, was, uh, cold." I'm stuttering like mad now.

"Right." She doesn't look very convinced.

"Well, I should, uh, go." I raise my hand feebly and walk backwards towards the door.

And of course, bump into some fat lady. It is certainly not my lucky day.

"Oy, this is the ladies, you know. Make out with your girlfriend someplace else." The fat woman glares at me and waddles towards a cubicle, shoving me as she walks past..

"She's not my girl-" The fat lady turns around and puts her middle finger up.

"Does this face look bothered?" Rude. Well, an eye for an eye, right?

"Go and stick your fat head in the toilet, you bloating witch." In response, I get a very graphic fart and a plop. Well, a series of plops, which I suspect were the... waste products of her beautiful body.

I turn around to talk to Guinevere again.

She's gone.

I look around the toilet, the janitor's cupboard, the empty cubicles, everywhere.

She's disappeared. Literally.

I would have seen her if she walked past me. It's a pretty small room, and has a tiled floor that reflects almost every sound, making it basically impossible for an ant to walk across the room without being heard, let alone a fully grown woman in heels.

I walk out of the ladies and into the cafe area. A few people, but she's not one of them.

Where did she go?

* * *

"She just vanished like that?" Gwaine looks pretty puzzled, a face I don't usually see on him.

"Yeah."

He ponders for a minute, then leans forward, "D'you think she's a witch?"

"What?"

"Think about it. She wears hoodies all the time and doesn't like to show her face-"

"She just likes some privacy!"

"AND she just disappears into thin air! If that's not enough evidence, I don't know what is."

"Look, Gwaine, just shut it. She's not a frickin' witch."

"I'm just saying-"

"Don't say."

"She's not even your girlfriend. You haven't even had a proper conversation with her, man, why you so defensive?"

"I don't know, okay? Just piss off."

"Hey, man, look-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Doesn't he get the message? I want to be ALONE.

He's silent for a moment, then he says quietly, "This is awfully similar to the situation you and Gwen were in the first time you met, isn't it?"

"What?"

"I want to talk to you, but you don't want to talk to me. You wanted to talk to Gwen, but she didn't want to talk to you." he explains.

I'm the one who's silent this time.

"I guess now you know why she was so angry. Sometimes, you just want to be left alone, I guess."

"Mmm."

He sighs and looks quite serious, another new expression I'm not familiar with. He stands up and puts on his jacket. "I'll go now, but just... think about it. And sorry for calling her a witch, mate. Wasn't thinking."

He leaves, and I think about everything.

He's right, sometimes people do just want to be alone. That time on the bus was probably just a bad day for her. Everyone has bad days, sometimes, and I should respect that. Woah, I sound pretty deep. Maybe it's her. Or maybe it's just Gwaine.

Maybe I should go back to the cafe tomorrow after work and look for her there. Apologize.

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

I better call Gwaine and apologize to him first. I gave him a pretty tough time, thinking back on it.

I get my mobile out of my pocket and unlock it.

Oh. New message.

Came while I was with Gwaine, so not him.

I look at the sender's number. I've never seen it before.

I open it anyway.

_Hello, Arthur. This is Gwen. Sorry for leaving you like that in the ladies. Bye._

How on earth did she get my number?

Maybe she is a witch. Or maybe Leon or Gwaine just told her.

Whatever. I press reply and hover my thumbs over the keyboard. What do I say?

It's okay? Nah, you don't waste a text for something like that.

How d'you get my number? Hmm. No. Not good enough.

I need a good pick-up line. One that'll start a nice conversation.

Ah. I know.

_Hi. _Perfect.

Okay, no it isn't, but what else do I say?

I press send and wait for an answer.

_Gwen: Oh, hey._

_Me: Hi. I'm Arthur._

_Gwen: I know._

_Me: How did you get my number? _

Oh no. I shouldn't have sent that. Not so early on, anyway.

_Gwen: Just. _

Just? What's that supposed to mean?

_Me: Okay._

_Gwen: Bye then. It was a pleasure talking to you._

Why's she ending it already? I have so much more to ask her.

_Me: Bye._

Rule number one- don't look desperate.

I lock my phone and put my head back.

Oh. Nearly forgot. I unlock my phone again and go back to the conversation. Phew, it's still there. I quickly add her to my contacts and remember another thing.

Gwaine.

Ringing. Ringing. Ringing.

I think he's just blanking me now. He never misses a call.

Unless he's in bed of course.

A few minutes later, my phone lights up again.

Gwaine.

"What d'ya want, mate?"

"Gwaine, look I just wanted to say-"

"Make it quick, Clara's not going to be in the toilet for long." I knew it.

"You're in bed with a girl?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You only left my house, what, half an hour ago."

"So? Found a girl on the way home. Couldn't just leave her there all lonely, now."

"But what about our argument? Aren't you upset or anything?"

"Why would I be? I've seen you worse, princess."

"Oh."

"I only have a minute left, I think she's nearly done. What did you wanna say?"

"Sorry for being a jerk. And I've got her number."

"Wow. Congrats, mate. Is she there with you?"

"What? No! I said I got her number, not her!"

"Oh, pity. I was hoping we could, you know, double date-sex, you know."

"GWAINE! I am not double date-sexing or whatever with you, you dirty man-whore!"

"Yeah, yeah. Got to hang up now, she's coming now."

"Coming?"

"Out of the toilet! You're the dirty man-whore here, mate." He laughs and hangs up.

Well. At least he's not mad at me.

I don't know what I'd prefer; him being mad at me, or him calling me a man-whore while having sex with his girlfriend.

Hmm. Need to think over that one, I think.

Down below, my stomach growls feverishly.

Can't be bothered to cook today.

Grabbing my phone, I make another phone call. To Pizza Hut.

Yum.


	4. Chapter 4

_Me: Hello, this is Arthur._

I text Guinevere after I finish my pizza (which was a Sun-kissed Tropical Hawaiian, by the way) and wait for her to reply.

Ah, a few minutes later and _ding_.

_Gwen: I know._

Okay.

That's not exactly the reply I was thinking of, I have to admit. But it's a good conversation starter.

My fingers hover over the keyboard as I ponder whether I should drag the conversation a bit before asking her out or just go for the money here and now.

Oh, whatever.

_Me: Are you free next Monday?_

Oh no. Should've dragged the conversation a bit before that. Damn me.

That's another way of showing that you're desperate. Another thing I _do not _usually do. But have just done.

_Gwen: Yes._

_Me: Do you want to go out for a coffee or something then?_

_Gwen: No, sorry._

_Me: I thought you were free?_

_Gwen: Yes, but just because I'm free doesn't necessarily mean that I want to spend my day with you, you non-magic poo face. No offence. _

Wow. That's harsh. Non-magic poo face? No offence?

_Me: That's a bit mean._

_Gwen: Sodfih2jhdf008d_

_Me: What?_

_Gwen: Sorry Merlin just wrote that. And the one before that. Not me._

_Me: Who's Merlin? Your boyfriend?_

_Gwen: No. My brother. Why? _

Oh phew. I thought I'd blown it with her.

_Me: Nothing._

_Gwen: Why are you asking me out anyway? _

_Me: Huh?_

_Gwen: We don't know anything about each other and all the times we've met have been seriously awkward._

_Me: So? Let's make it a bit less awkward this time then._

_Gwen: ..._

_Me: So do you want to go out?_

_Gwen: Not sure._

Just give her some time to think.

A few minutes maybe.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later my phone _dings _again.

_Gwen: Okay. Only once though. I can only spare half an hour or so. And it has to be somewhere private. _

Oh my. This one's naughtier than I thought.

_Me: Sure, sure, whatever you want, Guinevere. Private sounds good to me. Good to another part of me too._

_Gwen: It's not what you think._

_Me: I know. So how about the village cafe down the small alleyway in town?_

_Gwen: The one with the pea-green blinds?_

_Me: Uh, yeah. That one._

_Gwen: Fine._

_Me: At 12:40. _

She doesn't reply. But it says she's read it so I'm probably okay.

Ahh. Now just call the guys and tell them the good news.

And look for a cafe with 'pea-green' blinds. Whatever that means.

* * *

"I like this one. She's interesting." Gwaine comments as he reads my texts.

We're at Starbucks this time and Gwaine's somehow got hold of my phone.

I reach for it but keep getting blocked by Percival, my other best friend who's just come back from a romantic ski trip with his girlfriend.

Did I also mention the fact that he's built like a tank and always seems to take Gwaine's side?

Which somehow always ends up with my face in his palm, which is extremely sweaty and grimy. So I find myself going to the loos every time he and Gwaine are around.

The men's loos of course. I'm not a pervert.

"You can let him go now, Percy."

I suddenly shoot forward land on Gwaine's lap.

He looks down at me and grins, "Hey, mate, sorry but I'm straight."

Oh god. I will never understand what goes on in that dirty mind of his.

''Shut up, Gwaine, you perv." I crawl off his lap and retrieve my phone.

"Did you do anything?"

"I just looked at your messages. Not as elaborate as I thought they'd be."

"What were you expecting then?"

"You know... cyber love."

"What? I'm not getting... ugh Gwaine that's disgusting!"

Percival stares at us, mystified. He's obviously not got it yet. Too innocent for his own good.

"Phone sex you idiot."

Now he reacts. "Gwaine! That is the most revolting thing I have ever heard!"

"Don't say you haven't tried it before Percy. I've seen some of your messages too, and I can't say they're entirely innocent..." Gwaine waggles his eyebrows at him.

Percival blushes the deepest shade of red I've ever seen a man blush and he suddenly clasps his giant paw over his pocket.

Gwaine notices too. "Hah, so you've been at it have you? What did you say?" He laughs and slaps his back. "Oh darling Maria, I can almost feel your beautiful female genitals around my big horsey male genitals." He snorts like a pig while Percival goes purple.

I should've brought a camera. Percival's like a full colour chart. To pink to red to purple. He's probably turning blue next.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket.

I take out my phone and squint at the screen.

Anonymous caller. Ooh, mysterious.

"Hello?"

"Is this Arteur?" A strange deep German-French accent greets me.

"Who are you?"

"Are you Arteur?"

"Yeees. Why?"

"Mademoiselle Guinevere would like to cancel her meeting with you on Monday." Guinevere? But this isn't her phone number.

"What? Why?"

"She has more important things to attend."

"This isn't Merlin, is it?"

"I am her agent, Jean-Thomas Bouvard."

"Well, Monsieur Agent, please can you pass me over to her? I need to talk to her."

"I am not permitted to answer personal questions about Mademoiselle."

"But I-"

"Goodbye, monsieur." He hangs up abruptly and I turn to Gwaine slowly who's looking at me expectantly.

"Well? What did she say? Is she in bed? Wants a bit of phone sex?"

"No, you idiot, her agent's just cancelled our 'meeting'."

"Agent?" Percival's eyebrows knit together. "But isn't that the term used for the kind of secretaries of celebrities? Are you dating a celebrity?"

"No, don't think she is. And Percy, I'm not even dating her."

"Then why you so different with her?"

"Different?"

"You know, you didn't chase after your previous victims so much, you know? You're more, I don't know, not cool with her. You're breaking all your never-look-desperate rules."

I guess I am. The bus, chasing after her, the loos- I've never broken down like that in front of a girl before. Ever. Neither Mithian nor Elena had that effect and I even had sex with

"I don't know, Arthur, it's just, you know, what I feel. You know what I'm talking about don't you, Gwaine?"

"What did you say her name was?"

"What?"

"What's her name?" Gwaine asks again impatiently.

"Errr, Guinevere."

"Full name."

"Dunno."

He sighs, "What does she look like then?"

"Ummm, you know, English, nice skin, brown hair, err, eyes-" She's harder to describe than I thought.

Gwaine sighs and rolls his eyes exasperately, "Arthur, your observational skills blow me. Now I understand why your clients shout at you so much. I need detail!"

I start again. "Okay, she has brown eyes-"

"Actually this might be just a little bit quicker." He reaches for his pocket and fishes out his phone. He types something on his phone and drums the back of it a bit before turning it around to show us.

"That's a kid."

"Oh, right. Sorry, wrong photo." He quickly swipes it a few times and shows us again.

"Umm, dunno. Maybe. She looks a lot younger in the photo but it could be her. Why's maybe-her on Google images?"

"Didn't you ever watch that show when you were younger? 'May and Tay'?"

Percival grins and snaps his fingers, "Oh yeah, I remember that. The one with the little girl and her teddy bear who go on adventures and stuff. That was the most amazing show ever! I was so disappointed when it finished."

"I don't remember anything like that."

"You obviously had a very deprived childhood then, shortie." Gwaine chuckles and I turn away, his words cutting a little deeper than intended. He's right, I have had a seriously childhood-deprived childhood. Going to seminars, lectures and award ceremonies with Father is the only thing I remember from back then. No 'May and whatever' or anything.

I quickly come back to the present. "Why is it so important anyway? What's it got to do with Guinevere?"

Gwaine taps something and turns his phone around to show me. "Well, this cute little baby in 'May and Teddy' is your Gwen."

I stare at the smiling little baby girl on the screen. "What?!"

"She is. It's her." Gwaine smiles smugly.

"How is that baby her?" I'm kind of confused now.

"It is, Arthur. Gwaine, show him a photo of her in 'Family Trees'." Percival grins.

"Oh yeah, she was gorgeous in that one. So cute. That's when I first fell in love with her. My first love." Gwaine grins and types a bit before flashing the screen to me again.

It's the same baby but she looks a bit older, maybe about three or four years old. I have to admit I can see a bit of Guinevere in her though. The same big vacant brown eyes that makes her look like she's somewhere far off. Among the angels and the clouds.

I still can't believe that it's her though. The Guinevere I saw the couple of times we met does not look like the cheerful little baby actress in the photos.

Gwaine flicks to another picture and snorts, "I love this one. She looks so hot in it. I used to want to snog her face off every time she did that cute little pout of hers."

Percival laughs, "Oh my god, Gwaine, I loved it too. She looked like one of those Disney characters." He suddenly pulls a face. "But seriously, you had a crush on her? You were like, what, seven then?"

"So? Doesn't mean I can't want to have her right?"

"You were some dirty-minded seven-year-old. No wonder you're such a playboy now."

I must admit I'm feeling a little left out. When I was young, Father never let me watch TV or films or anything, saying it's a waste of time and electricity. We had only one set in the whole house- a tiny old one in his room so he could see what the media were saying about him.

I guess that's the down side of growing up without a mother. You miss out on so much. Especially in your childhood.

I look at the picture again and read the caption. Wait. This is some girl called Amy or something. "Gwaine, this isn't even her. It's some girl called Amy."

"Oh my god, shortie, you are seriously out of date. Guinevere's not her first name. It's her middle name, dumbass."

Percival chips in, "Her first name's Amelia-May. Amy-May for short. Pretty, isn't it?"

"Then why'd she tell me that her name's Guinevere?" I'm getting more and more confused now.

"Dunno. Beats me." Gwaine shrugs.

Even though I'm still not convinced it's her, I'm strangely curious about this supposed-to-be Guinevere.

"Show me more pictures of her."

"Okay. Just warning you, mate, there's a lot of her on screen, you know, acting, but there's barely any of her in public. In everyday life."

"Whatever, show me whatever Google's got."

"Here. She's been in quite a lot of shows, especially in her childhood. Did you know that she began acting at 3 months old?"

"Wow, that's amazing." I flick through the images one by one, trying to find a little bit of Guinevere in each one. It doesn't help that I don't know anything about her but her name. Her age, where she lives, what she likes- they're all a mystery to me.

"Yeah, that's pretty cool right? Maybe that's why she was such a great actress." Percival takes the phone and quickly types something else in and I see photos of her, about twelve-years-old now. I can recognize her face and her posture a bit more in the photos. There's something weird about her though.

In every picture she looks in character, like somebody else- I guess that's what defines a good actress, but there was one thing that was pretty foreign to the rest of her face.

Her smile. It doesn't look forced but doesn't look natural either. It was as if she didn't understand the concept of smiling. Or maybe just something else. I don't know. I shake my head and brush the thought away and continue scanning through the photos.

Suddenly a question pops into my head, something to do with what Gwaine said earlier. "Why aren't there any photos of her outside the set?"

"I don't know. There should be loads- there are for other famous actresses anyway." Gwaine shrugs and scrolls down. "There's only been like one photo ever in her entire career that shows her offset. This one." He points to one of a girl in a gray thing under an umbrella. Her face is all shaded and you can only see her feet, poking out under the huge over-sized mackintosh.

"How d'you know that's her? You can't even see anything!" I ask, puzzled.

"Someone recognized her a couple of years back. Well, that's what they said, then. There was a total media frenzy cos it was like the first photo of her in like, ages. The media haven't got anything from her since then." Gwaine explains.

"Yeah, it's so rare to find a photo of her off the stage that big magazine companies have put up rewards of hundreds of pounds to whoever gets a half-decent shot of her. But then again, it's pretty hard because all you have is pictures of her when she was younger so nobody really knows what she looks like now." Percival looks all excited, telling it like a murder story just waiting to be solved.

"She hasn't been in any films recently?" I ask.

"Her films and everything stopped when she was about fourteen or something. Dunno why." He shrugs.

"She suddenly disappeared. You know, like, just vanished."

"I have a really good idea though." Gwaine nudges Percival and they nod.

"Since you seem to keep bumping into her..." Gwaine starts.

"... the next time you see her, maybe you could get a photo and give it to us so we can have the prize?" Percival gabbles and grins hopefully at me.

"No." I reply.

"What?" Gwaine looks at me as if I'm talking Japanese.

"I said no." I say simply.

"Why?" Percival looks as baffled as Gwaine.

"Because it's unfair on her."

"What?" Gwaine repeats.

"I'm guessing she's not being found because she doesn't _want_ to be found. Why else would she shy away from all the fame she could've had if she'd been like any other celebrity? She's obviously got a reason, and I want you guys to respect that. I want to earn her trust and betraying her like that won't do it."

Gwaine stares at me. "Are you alright, Arthur?"

"Yeah, you're actually caring about someone's feelings for once. That is just alien." Percival nods.

"Shut up." I punch them lightly on the shoulder.

"Well, stop being so deep and emotional and... girly, mate. I can't get used to it."

"I'm still getting used to the fact that Guinevere was some little child star." I comment.

"You're just lucky she isn't a porn star." Gwaine says.

I laugh and Percival snorts. "That would be just..."

Gwaine chuckles. "Yeah, I know. Typing up her name on Google and finding her arse looking at you."

"Stop it, Gwaine, stop it. The mental image is not helping." Percival grabs his stomach and rolls around on his seat which looks as if it's about to collapse under him.

"I wouldn't mind it though. Just imagine squeezing her..." He grins and squeezes the air with his hands while moaning loudly making a lot of people stare at him. And at me and Percival too. But I guess that's what comes with having Gwaine as a friend. You get a lot of unwanted publicity.

"Gwaine..." Percival's getting rather red now.

He grins and stops. "Fine, you spoilsport."

"You idiot. Oh wait, Maria's calling." He leans back and puts his phone to his ear.

"Have you talked to your girlfriend recently Gwaine?" I ask.

"Ah, no. They broke up with me just before I came here." He looks a little suspicious.

"Why?"

"They were cousins. And they found out about each other. In a rather... _wrong _way."

I'm not sure if I want to hear this. "What d'you mean?"

"Well." He bites his lower lip. "I had sex with Jenni, then she left for some lecture or something. Then _Tracy _came over a few minutes later and gave me a blowjob." He grins.

What? And then suddenly it hits me like a stone wall. "Oh god, Gwaine. You don't mean..." I pull a face.

"Yep. She tasted her cousin's insides on me." He looks pretty proud for someone who's done something like... _that_. Everyone's looking at us again.

"Maria's getting a tomato plant and she wants to make pasta with me." He smiles then looks up. "What were you talking about?" Percival looks at us expectantly.

I burst out laughing and Gwaine smirks. "You do _not _want to know, you giant old bear. It's a bit... inappropriate for you."

"Why? What happened?" Percival's as clueless as ever. He and Leon have more in common than I thought.

"You don't need to know, old pal." Gwaine suddenly looks at the clock. "Oh, shit, gotta dash, Soph's going to blow if I don't get there on time."

"Blow what?" I couldn't help myself.

"Shut up, shortie, I'm serious. Come on Perce." He dashes out with Percival leaving me sitting there on my own with everyone staring at me, obviously thinking of Gwaine's dirty ways. And probably thinking that I'm as dirty as he is.

I leave the cafe and walk outside and shiver. It's getting a bit chilly now even though the sun's still out.

I should probably be heading home now even though I don't want to. Morgana's been even more annoying than ever. So much that I almost considered going back to Father. But then reality kicked in.

I get a cab and lean my head back and close my eyes as soon as I get in.

I have a crazy life.


	5. Chapter 5

Sunday. I go to church in the morning and buy some groceries on the way home from Tesco's. And some sleeping pills for Morgana. Although they're not much help, they calm her down a little in the day. And make my nights a bit more... normal.

I get into my car and drive home. To Morgana's mangy apartment. Home, sweet, home.

I park and get out. Someone's at the door. My heart leaps for a second, thinking that it's Guinevere. But it falls again when I realize that it's just Morgana's shrink from the mental health clinic. Morgana's shouting at her again through the speaker intercom thing. I go up to the door and press the button to shut her up and apologize to the poor woman. I open the door for her, who's looking a little bit depressed herself.

"Sorry about my sister. You know what she's like." I apologize again, as we make our way up the stairs.

"It's alright. I've seen worse cases, trust me." she sighs and runs her hand through her blond locks.

There's an awkward silence as we gradually get to the top. I cough and smile at her. "I don't think we've been formally introduced to one another yet. Er, I'm Arthur. Arthur Pendragon." I extend my free hand and she shakes it warmly.

"Morgause Brooks. Nice to meet you. Glad to know that there's at least one sane person in the family. It must be hard living with a person like Morgana." She laughs and I grit my teeth, feeling a little annoyed. Morgana may be an idiot and a crazy git at times but she's my sister and _no-one _speaks of my sister like that. Or of anyone else in the family. I don't say anything though, we've just met for goodness' sake, I can't judge her on one sentence.

As we get to our floor. I turn my key in the lock and open the door. And find Morgana lying on the couch making out with some boy who hasn't even had his growth spurt yet.

"Morgana! _What _are you doing?!" I hiss. "Your psychiatrist's here, for god's sake. Get the child out and make yourself presentable."

"No! She's sssuch a stupeeeda womonnna!" She laughs hysterically at her own stupid accent and the smell of alcohol envelopes me. Oh god. She's been at the vodka again. And she obviously hasn't taken her medication.

The shrink walks in and spots Morgana slouching on the couch, her hair still tousled and shirtless. "Miss Pendragon? Please get off the couch and put on some clothes." The Brooks woman points her finger at the floor and looks at her sternly. Like one of those really strict headmistresses who you cannot help but obey. I had one in secondary school. Everyone found her dead sexy. And dead scary. However, Morgana just acts like Morgana and sticks her tongue out at her and starts snogging that boy again who's somehow found his way back to her. She is obviously immune to strict sexy headteachers.

"Miss Pendragon." Her voice is a 'warning voice' now. The kind of voice your primary school teacher gives you when you're being 'naughty'. Then puts you in the 'naughty corner' where you're supposed to think about your wrongdoings and repent your sins. Or just sit there picking your nose and throwing wads of spit paper onto the wall.

I shake my head as the two begin to shout at each other like they do every time the psychiatrist comes round. Seriously, I think it'd be better for Morgana's mental health if she _didn't _have that particular shrink. I go to my room and lay down on the bed and contemplate whether I should contact Guinevere or not. I do have to ask her about the whole deal yesterday and stuff after all.

Actually, I probably shouldn't. I remember what she said about respected people's silences and stuff. I'll text her tomorrow or sometime.

I sit up and flop down on the bed again. I'm getting tired of this. Chasing after her like a lost puppy. Chasing after someone who's not even interested. Let's just move on to a different kettle of fish. Former child stars are notorious for turning towards drugs and alcohol and whatnot. Yes, I should just move on. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, right? Enough for a lifetime.

All I need to do is find the perfect one.

* * *

A few hours of shouting and screaming later, the shrink leaves, leaving Morgana alone in the living room singing some weird Spanish song about my crazy life. She's right there.

I peep through the keyhole and cautiously walk in, not wanting to see another disgusting sight of her half-naked and draped over some dickhead who doesn't even have his two front teeth yet.

Thankfully, she's alone. I sit down next to her and nudge her. "Where's your... friend?" I ask.

"Gone with the wind. Tra la la laaaaaa-" she trills and starts singing the Sound of Music. The Sound of Music? What? I do not get her and her seriously weird ways.

"So. What d'you do with her?" I ask, throwing a pillow at her to shut her up.

"Oh nothing much. She just kept shouting at me asking why I wouldn't come to appointments twice a week and oh yeah, nearly forgot, we have an appointment tomorrow morning, so you know, darling-"

"Don't call me darling."

"Whatever, you need to come with me. You know, responsible adult..." she starts giggling again and I sigh. I thought she had actually sobered up a little. Obviously not.

"Stop it."

"Diddums." She suddenly produces a bottle of vodka from nowhere and takes a swig. She even gargles it before swallowing it.

"Morgana, go back to your room, you're drunk. I thought I told you not to touch the stuff. Give it to me." I don't even care anymore though. It's her body, her choices.

She stands "No! My baby! You're not the boss of me you know you little punk. Just because you're a man doesn't mean you can order me around, you B*STARD! I'll have my drink whenever I want it!"

"Morgana, you know what happened to your mother with all the drink! Don't pretend you've forgotten you slut!" I shout at her and stand up too.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY F***ING MOTHER, SHE'S NOT EVEN YOUR MOTHER, DON'T TALK ABOUT HER AS IF YOU KNOW HER, COS YOU DON'T YOU B*STARD, YOU DON'T!" She punches me in the face and keeps beating my chest. It'd just be quicker if I just left. So I do.

I walk down the stairs, and shiver as the cold London air blows in my face. I should've brought my coat. Hopefully it won't be long before Morgana sobers up a bit. Alcohol poisons you. Which is why I never drink it. It's... a bad memory. A painful memory. Not because it kind of... hurt Morgana's mum, but because. There's another reason. A wound still too raw.

I stay for another five minutes then go back upstairs and find Morgana sprawled on the couch, sleeping in her own vomit. I sigh; this isn't the first time I've had to do this.

I go to the kitchen and get a wet wipe and towels. I hold my nose with a wet wipe and clean up the vomit as best as I can and then put soaking wet towels on the carpet so they'll soak up the vomit underneath. That way, in the morning, the floor will smell less and the towel will smell more.

The overall job stinks and I hate doing it, but I guess that's what you do when your sister's someone like Morgana.

I carry her to the bath and use the shower to get rid of the smell as much as possible. I gently wash out the clumped bits in her hair and shampoo it and rinse it a little while I have the chance. She only washes her hair twice a week so, I guess this will make her feel pretty clean for once.

I then wipe her clothes with a warm sponge and try hard not to wake her. At least she's asleep though. When she's awake, she puts up a bloody fight, especially in the bathroom, with claws and all. But today she's worn herself out, luckily for me. I'll get some sleep tonight then. One good point.

I carry her to her pig sty of a room and lay her onto the bed. She suddenly twists and turns and screams. Another nightmare. Another thing I can't control. A thing to do with her magic. It's always like this; either she doesn't sleep or she does and has a nightmare. A really bad one usually, which breaks her stone hard exterior a little bit sometimes and lets me into her mind. But only sometimes. Most of the time she's a living nightmare. Her mind has like an armor of its own. Impenetrable. You can only see past it when she takes it off. And she never does so, consciously, anyway.

I feel sorry for her. It must be hard living like that. Mental disorders are the hardest. You suffer so much and there isn't much you can do about it. Physical disorders, well, at least you have a sane mind. But not being able to control your own thoughts? That's just living hell. Thinking like that, psychiatrists and shrinks are not as highly ranked and respected in society as they should be. Lawyers like me are much higher up, and thinking about it, they do a whole lot more than we do.

I think of Morgana's troubles again and feel a pang of guilt. All the time she's been suffering, I've been worrying about the next girl to put in my trousers.

I sigh and brush my teeth slowly. I wash my face and look up at the mirror. I'll take her to the clinic tomorrow before work. That's the least I can do.

I get under my covers and sigh. I need someone. Someone strong enough to anchor me to reality. Otherwise, soon, my life will be nothing but an empty shell.

But then again, perhaps it already is.


	6. Chapter 6

So. It's Monday morning and I'm taking Morgana to the mental health clinic. To be honest, I don't know why she bothers_._

She's been attending is for _ages,_ even before I moved in with her, and she hasn't exactly grown any better. In my opinion.

She's looking happier today, and much calmer. That's the thing with this kind of bipolar-y thing she has. She swiches from happy to sad to happy to sad in the blink of an eye. Rather annoying for me, of course.

We walk down and get into her car this time. She's insisting that she drives, and I let her, to drag along her happy state until we get there, even though she hasn't driven in months since she crashed into a lamppost and got driven (in an ambulance) to the hospital straight away to have her head stitched up.

She handles the tiny Ford surprisingly well for someone who's been staying at home for so long. There's not much traffic cos the rush-hour's just passed so we get there 15 minutes early. And she's still in her happy state so we're good.

I wander in while she gets a parking ticket (she insisted on that one too.) and sit down in one of the white seats by the doorway.

"Good morning, Arthur Pendragon." What? How does she know- Oh god. It's her. Emmeline Frost. One of my previous bed-mates. She tried to kill me once with a soap after I told her I 'needed space'. It was probably bad timing telling her that right after we'd had sex. I was actually hoping getting her all relaxed and stuff was going to make it a little less painful for me. Apparently not.

"Hello, Emmeline." I say.

"How have you been?" Her voice is practically dripping with fake sympathy and I have a sudden feeling that my life is in danger.

"Err, fine. You?"

"I'm still getting over our little... misunderstanding." Oh god. I knew she'd do this.

"Misunderstanding?" I feign confusion and cock my head.

"Yes you-"

"Sorry I took so long, diddums." Morgana. So she's been at the alcohol again. I growl in frustration. She ignores me and walks over to the receptionist's desk. "I have an appointment at 10 or something."

"Oh yes, Miss..._ Pendragon_?!" She gasps and points at me. "You _married _him?"

"What are you talking about?" Morgana looks at us, and furrow her eyebrows, clearly confused.

"I can't believe you..." she puts her hand on her forehead and moans. Talk about being a drama queen. "We were so happy together! How _could _you? You promised you'd marry _me_, not this slut!"

"Wait. You think I'm his frickin' _wife_? His wife? Seriously? He can't even manage a girlfriend, how d'you think he'll manage a bloomin' wife?" Oh no. Old Morgana's come back. "You stupid slutty b**ch, he's my f***ing BROTHER!" She spits at Frosty who's looking seriously shocked and storms off to the toilet.

Emmeline just bursts into tears, her hard exterior broken down, and runs into office. Pathetic wimp. That's why I broke things off with her, I guess. Except for the rubbish sex, she was such a crybaby. She cried if she didn't get something and whined all the time. If I tried to lay her down gently, she'd wobble her bottom lip and pout which just made her look like a frog. I don't know why I dragged her for a whole _month _before dumping her. I should've done so ages ago.

I hear the counselling room door open. Uh oh. Morgana's still in the loo, probably smashing the glass and stuff. A man's voice. Well, at least she doesn't have that goose of a woman she had yesterday.

He comes out with another girl starts talking with her. Hmmm. Wonder if she's as bad as Morgana.

I lean over slightly so I can hear them a little better. "... well, I think that's it. Just don't watch telly and keep yourself healthy, Gwen." Wait. Gwen? As in short for Guinevere? I look at the pair sideways. It's her! It's actually her. Why is she here?

"Guinevere?" Oh god. Did I just say that out loud? I hope she hasn't heard. But of course, I always get the worst luck.

"Oh. Hello." She waves the doctor goodbye and comes over to me. "Arthur, isn't it?"

"Uhh, yes. Guinevere." I stand up and shake her extended hand. "So why are you here?"

"Oh. Just..." she looks slightly uncomfortable for a moment. "My sister's ill so I came to pick up her medicine. What are you doing here?" She had a sister?

"My sister has an appointment. Right now, actually. Is this why you said you couldn't make it today?"

"Yes, sorry." Her face is emotionless and blank. "Goodbye." She turns to leave and she just signs out when somebody comes in. She immediately turns away and tries to pull her hood up but then realizes she's wearing a t-shirt.

She's obviously trying to hide from whoever it is.

I quickly walk up to her and wrap my arms around her, concealing her face in my chest.

The guy looks at us strangely but doesn't say anything and goes to the men's loos.

"He's gone." I whisper and she looks up at me. I stare into her honey brown eyes and find myself falling into them.

She stays like that for a few minutes more then wiggles a bit. "Can you let go of me, then?"

"Oh! Oh, sorry." I release her laugh and she smiles. That smile I saw in the photos. The kind of uncomfortable strained smile as if she doesn't know _how _to smile.

"Well, thank you for that. I appreciate it." She tries to leave again but I grab her elbow before she opens the door.

"Can't you return the favor with a date, then?"

"Pardon?" She doesn't look at me but I can hear the confusion in her voice.

"Can you come on a date with me? At that old village cafe with the pea-green blinds." I talk desperately, clinging onto her arm like its my lifeline.

She's silent for a moment then swivels around. "Fine. But only to return the favor. Then I'm leaving." She pivots round on her heel and leaves the clinic with me following her with a huge grin on my face.

As I close the door, I hear Morgana screech at the poor old doctor who's trying to drag her out of the toilet. I sigh. Some things never change.

* * *

We arrive at the cafe in about 15 minutes and we walk in.

Oh gosh. It really is very private. Everything is so dusty and there is not anything about this place that suggests that it is a cafe except for the little coffee machine behind a counter-y thing. Suddenly something rustles and an old woman appears by the door.

"Please have a seat. What would you like?" We both sit down and she takes our orders. She's surprisingly agile, whizzing about the cafe like a fairy, adding a bit of sugar there, cocoa beans, and sprinkling stuff everywhere.

"This is nice." She says absentmindedly.

I smile. "Yes, it is, isn't it."

She brushes some dust off the table and lifts her head up. Her eyes bore into me and I feel like she's drilling my skull. "Why do you want to go on a date with me so much?" she asks.

I cough, partly because of the dust, partly because of her question. "Umm, I don't know. I can't say I'm as desperate as you make me out though."

"Then why do you keep chasing after me and asking me stupid questions?"

"Uh, sorry?"

She coughs this time and shakes her head. "Sorry. I got a bit impolite there."

"It's alright. I probably deserved it."

The lady brings us our drinks and disappears again behind the screen. Guinevere swirls the drink with her teaspoon and looks at me again.

"It's not a good idea. Going on dates with me."

"Why?"

"Don't pretend you don't know about my past." she scoffs.

"So? What about it? You acted, then you gave up or something. Did you murder all your ex-boyfriends or something after that? " I ask, and take a sip of my coffee which is really good, much to my surprise. Who knew such a smelly coffee place could make such amazing coffee?_  
_

She opens her mouth as if to say something but then shuts it again. "Nothing." she sighs.

"Don't worry about anything. We're not even dating yet anyway. We'll cross that bridge, whatever it is, when we come to it."

"We." she says softly. "We."

We sit in silence, just sipping our drinks, just listening to the clock ticking, tick tock tick tock tick tock...

Occasionally we have a bit of a polite conversation which dies down again, then starts again.

Suddenly I want to ask her something. "Is Guinevere really your name?" I ask. I feel a strong urge to want to check out the facts about her, make sure I'm not fooled by some illusion of a younger her poured into my ear my Gwaine.

"It's my middle name." she replies quietly, still stirring her now cold coffee. So he was right there.

Second question then. "What's your first name, then?"

"You should know. Didn't Gwaine tell you?" Woah. How did she know that? How did she even know that I have a friend called Gwaine? Is she some kind of witch or something who can read people's minds?

"Errr, yeah, but-"

"So what is it?" she looks at me. Is she trying to test me? I try to read her expression but it's unreadable.

"Amy-May." I answer a little uncertainly. She doesn't respond in any way so I just carry on with my questions. "Okay then, are you really an actress?"

She lowers her eyes to her spoon, swirling around her cup. "Yes. Well, I was, anyway."

"Why did you give up acting?" I ask.

Her spoon stops swirling for a moment and I sense her momentary panic. "You don't need to know." she replies, not a trace of panic in her voice. Wow. She is a good actress.

"Okay." I guess I'm asking too many questions. Questions she doesn't want to answer. I remember what she told me last week on the bus. I'm learning, slowly, but I'm learning.

"I'm sorry." she says quietly that I barely hear her over my thoughts.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." she repeats.

"Why?"

"Because." she dips a finger in her cold drink and watches the coffee drip off it slowly. "Because I can't give you what you want."

"What? I didn't say anything about wanting anything." She's confusing me a bit now.

"In the end, no matter how hard you try, you'll never get it." Get what? Her heart? Sex? What is she talking about?

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"You are going to regret today. I swear you are. Meeting me. Having coffee with me. You're going to regret it." I see a single tear drop into her mug. She keeps her head bent. I look away, giving her some privacy.

She's strange. Peculiar. But something draws me in, despite her warnings and all her weird actions. She draws me in like a moth to a light. Perhaps she's right, I might meet my death with her. I might. Who knows. Maybe, like a moth, my light will be my doom. She will be my doom.

I look at her once more. No more tears fall, and as she raises her head, her face is completely expressionless. Her eyes aren't red and her expression is kept under control. Either she's a really good actress or a very troubled person.

I stand up and grab my wallet. Need to get to work. Father will have my head if I don't arrive on time. I drop some coins on the table and walk across to her side.

"Are you going to leave now? I need to get to work." I gently touch her back.

Her eyes flicker with emotion for a second but then the moment passes and her face's a mask again.

"I'm coming." I pull out her chair and she stands up and leaves without another word. I push in her chair and join her outside in the chilly breeze.

She shivers a little beside me. She's only wearing a t-shirt so she must be freezing.

"Guinevere." She doesn't respond so I take her chin and tilt it so she's facing me. "Here. You look cold." As I take off my jacket and wrap it round her, I feel the urge to laugh out loud as I do the most cliched thing ever. Her face gets a little pinker and she's not shivering as much so I guess she's feeling a little bit warmer.

"Thank you for today. It was nice."

"I'll walk you home." I say.

Panic flashes across her face again and she puts a hand to my chest.

"No! I mean, I'm fine. I don't need help." She takes her hand off and smiles up at me. "I don't live too far away anyway. Good bye." I watch as she walks away, far off into the distance, until she's nothing but a speck. I run down to the main street to catch a bus and get on. I reach into my pocket and my eyes widen. Oh god. My jacket. She's got my jacket. Which has my wallet and my bus pass in it.

I groan and get off the bus. I sit down and take my phone out. At least I didn't put my phone in it. Otherwise I'd be dead meat.

I call Leon and ask him to pick me up. Luckily, he doesn't live far away and he works at my Father's place too, which is pretty useful for me, especially now.

As I get into his Mini, I suddenly smile.

I get one good thing out of this then. Now I have an excuse to ask her out again.

I grin then sigh as I think about Mrs Huston and her stupid husband again. She'd just be better off murdering him. That would clean up the case quite nicely.

My mind drifts to Guinevere again, her strange behavior today.

Whatever it is, I want to find out. I _need _to find out.

I just need to figure out how.


	7. Chapter 7

Although I wasn't late yesterday, Father still had my head for no particular reason. He's always like that, so I can't say I was too insulted.

It's Tuesday so I have to go to work early for a meeting or something with all the other lawyers.

I get to work pretty early, thanks to the God of Traffic giving me a bit of mercy today and I start sorting things out on my desk. It's become nearly as messy as Morgana's room, though not as smelly. She doesn't need to tell to stay clear of her room. The stink in there makes me keep my distance anyway.

I start filing some paperwork when someone comes in behind me.

"What are you doing here so early then, Pendragon?" Oh. It's just Lance. Not one of my closest friends but not my biggest enemy either. I guess his slimy personality just puts me off.

"Oh, there wasn't any traffic." I reply and file AMARETTA, Robin's file under 'A-C'.

"You going to that meeting thing later?" He sits on the desk, irritating me a little.

"Yeah, we have to." I keep my sentences short. Give him the signs that I don't want to speak to him.

He flicks through some files and laughs. "Apparently you have a new girlfriend."

"Who told you that?"

"A little birdy." He laughs again and elbows me.

"Is she hot?"

"Why should you care?"

"Ooh, getting a bit defensive are we, Pendragon?"

"Shut up, Du Lac."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave, I get it." He saunters to the door laughing. "Oh, and by the way, when you're done with her, give me her phone number so I can feed her my sausage too." He leaves before I can say anything. I sit down in my chair, fuming. Whoever told Lancelot about Guinevere is dead meat. Once I find them.

I sigh and gather all stray pencils lying around and line them up so the pointy bits are at the top. Then I pop them in my pencil pot with some other pens and stationery. My files go in the filing cabinet and I try to organize my drawers as neatly as possible so I won't have to do this again in at least 2 years.

After half an hour of doing pointless spring cleaning, I take my jacket off and wipe my forehead. Yay. All done. All I need to do is put spray some air freshener around. The office is starting to smell of sweat and other nasty things.

I'm nearly done when my Father comes in.

"Arthur." He doesn't sound very pleased.

"Father." I pant and put down the Febreze.

"What are you doing, dancing round the room like a fairy?" I start to laugh then realize that it wasn't a joke. Father never makes jokes.

I cough and straighten my tie. "I was cleaning my office, sir."

"Well, put on your jacket and come to the meeting now. You're late." I look at the clock.

"There's ten minutes left, Father." I say.

"Exactly. You're late. Now come on." He leaves and I grab my jacket and follow him to the conference room which is empty (obviously). I start to lay out the program of the meeting on every seat and put name tags on them too. I have to do this every time there's a meeting which is a pain in the butt.

A few minutes later, Lancelot, Leon, Nicholas and a few others come in and sit down.

Leon comes over and nudges me. "So I hear you've been on a date with Gwen." he whispers.

"Where on earth did you hear that?" I whisper back.

"Morgana."

"_MORGANA?!_" I practically shout-whisper. How could _Morgana _know? Out of all people!

"Yeah, she texted Gwaine saying that you went out with her and then he told Percy who told me."

I roll my eyes. "So basically everybody knows. Even Du Lac knew and you know how ignorant he is." I say.

"Yes, but-" Father coughs and looks at me pointedly.

Leon and I smirk at each other and turn towards the front.

Father purses his lips at us and then smiles at everyone. "Good morning."

There's a chorus of 'Good mornings' and an especially enthusiastic one from Dave, a newbie, who's never been to one before.

"Well then, let's start the meeting." My father smiles and I groan. Let the snooze hour begin.

* * *

After the meeting ends, I head straight to my office and find a sheet of paper on my desk.

The woman who's case I've been working on for the last few weeks says she can't make the next five meetings. Well. That changes my plans for the next few weeks.

I sigh and pick up the phone. I dial her telephone number. Then her mobile number. She doesn't pick up on either.

"Douchebag." I mutter as I email her and text her and contact her in all means of communication available.

I better call her barrister.

"Hello? Mr Reynolds?" I say.

"Hello, Mr Pendragon. How are you today?" He answers. He sounds like he's in a good mood today, thank goodness.

"I'm fine, actually. You?"

"I'm good too. How can I help you?"

"I got a note from Mrs Huston. She can't make it to the personal solicitor-client meetings for the next few weeks so I was wondering if you could shift the court dates a bit so we don't have to rush."

I hear him sigh at the other end of the phone. "I was right then, Arthur, this woman is going to be a bit of a trouble."

"I know what you mean, Geoffrey. She's been nothing but a pain since I met her."

"Still. She's paying great money. Denying her wouldn't be a very good idea." He sighs again.

"Well, have a good day, Geoffrey." I say.

"Nice hearing from you again, young man, even though the news you were carrying wasn't so good."

We both laugh and say our farewells then I hang up.

"Who was that?" My Father's standing in the doorway looking at me. Woah. How long has he been there?

"Err, Mr Reynolds. The barrister who's taking Mrs Huston's case with me."

"Why did he call you?" His face is expressionless. A bit like Guinevere's.

"I called him, actually. Mrs Huston said she couldn't make it for the next few meetings so I needed to ask him if he could shift the court dates a little."

"Didn't Mrs Huston miss out on a couple of meetings a few weeks ago as well?" He raises an eyebrow and walks out to my desk and wipes a bit of non-existing dust off the corner of it.

"Yes. Three meetings, actually. Both Mr Reynolds and I are getting quite tired of her."

"So am I, Arthur, so am I." He sounds tired too, and for a second, he looks old and... fatherly. Then the moment passes and he's back into business mode. "But remember she's paying good money so don't annoy her." He then walks away, probably to go and tell off another poor innocent soul.

Well. Lunch time now. I haven't packed any lunch with me today so I decide to go out and eat. Subway, maybe. Perhaps I should invite Guinevere. Cheer her up a little. She looks like she needs a serious cheering up.

And I _am _the king of cheering people up.

I put on my jacket and get my phone and my spare credit card in case she doesn't bring my coat and wallet. I lock all my drawers and the filing cabinet (just in case) and lock the door behind me as I leave my office.

Leon sees me leaving the building and runs over to me. "Hey! Arthur!"

"Hi, Leon." I say.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

"Subway. I forgot my lunch today."

"Come and eat with us in the cafe. We're all there."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Me, Tommy, Nick, Nigel, Lance-" Lancelot. No way am I having lunch with that pervert.

I smile, what I hope is apologetically and pat him on the shoulder. "Sorry, mate. I can't."

"Oh come on, Arthur. They have banoffee pie today." Oh god. Banoffee pie. He knows I have a soft spot for banoffee pie. Should I just have lunch with Guinevere tomorrow? After all, I don't even know if she's available yet.

Leon smirks at me a little. I think he can see my resolve crumbling away.

"They have maple syrup too, you know, and whipped cream piled sky high-" Suddenly my phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Wait a minute, Leon." Guinevere's calling.

I wait a moment or two before answering the call. Another one of my don't-look-desperate rules. Leon raises and eyebrow at this.

"Hello? Guinevere?"

"Who is this?" A man's voice answers me. What?

"Errr, I think I've got the wrong number, sorry." I try to hang up and keep pressing the 'end call' button but it's as if it's refusing to end the call.

"What the heck..." I mutter under my breath. I put the phone to my ear again.

"Who is this?"

Oh, whatever. "Arthur. Arthur Pendragon." I hear a slight crackle and somebody muttering in the background.

"Arthur?" Oh. It _is _her this time. Who was the man?

"Guinevere?" I say, a little cautiously in case it's just the man faking a woman's voice.

"How are you?" she sounds a little lighter than the last time we met. That's good.

"I'm great. You?"

"I am fine." Our conversation's as polite as can be.

"Who was that guy a few seconds ago?"

"He is my brother."

What was his name again? "Merlin?" Leon's looking seriously bored now and has started to tap his foot on the marble floor.

"Yes." she doesn't elaborate any further so I press a bit.

"Why did he call me from your phone?"

"Oh, it's just..." she's silent for a moment. "I was in the loo."

"Okay." I obviously don't sound very convincing because she coughs a little on the other end and I can hear _Merlin _snorting a little in the background.

The conversation's obviously steering towards awkward a little so I decide to change gears a bit. "So. Why did you call me? Or why did your brother call me?"

"I just found out that I did not give your jacket back last night. And it had your wallet in it."

"Okay. So?" This girl needs a lot of prompting, that's for sure._  
_

"So could you meet me somewhere? So I can return your jacket and wallet back."

"What about Subway? The one near the pea cafe."

"Okay. I will meet you there." She mutters a good bye and hangs up.

"Leon, I think I'm just going to-" I turn around. He's gone. Oh. Whatever.

I sign out on the form at the desk and wave at Shelley. "Tell Father I'll be back in an hour." She nods and waves as I go out.

I drive there because of the chilly weather and find her already sitting there with her face covered, as usual. It's a weekday so there's no-one there except for her. Even the guy who's usually behind the till's not there.

I walk up to her quietly and touch her on the shoulder, making her jump. "Oh! You startled me!" she says.

"Sorry." I whisper and sit down opposite her.

"Here is your jacket and wallet. I promise Merlin did not steal anything." She hands me my stuff and gives me a half-smile. She brushes her own coat a little and stands up.

"I am going to go now. Bye." She pushes in her chair and waves at me good bye.

"Wait!" I stand up and reach for her hand. As soon as I touch it she withdraws it, like she's been burned. Her head whips round and she looks at me, a little afraid, a little nervous; I don't know.

"What do you want?" she says quietly, her voice laced with fear.

"Do you, you-" I stutter, suddenly taken aback by her manner. She puts her hands deep in her pockets again and turns to leave again.

"Do you want to have lunch with me?" I blurt out.

"Pardon?" She doesn't look back but freezes, as if I've just sent her a death warrant.

"Do you want to have lunch?" I repeat, more confidently this time.

She looks thoughtful for a second then smiles at me. A small one, but a smile nonetheless.

"Here?" she asks, pointing to the floor.

"Uhh, yeah, sure, if you don't mind."

"I don't." She takes off her cap and puts it on the table. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Could you..." she hesitates for a moment. "Could you order for me?"

"Sure. Just tell me what you'd like, and tell me if I get anything wrong, okay?" She smiles and nods at this and a nice cozy warmth spreads through me.

She writes down something on a piece of paper then hands it to me. "Here is what I want. I'll just wait here." She puts her cap back on and covers her face again with her hair. As I wait for the man to come back from the kitchen, I look at her order.

_The small one._

_Any bread._

_Any meat._

_All the fillings except for sweetcorn and mushrooms and peas._

_Any sauce. You choose. _

I smile at her list. I think she's starting to become more comfortable with me. I still don't know why she keeps hiding her face and is always looking _really _nervous, but looking at her adorable curly handwriting and how cute she was just now, asking me to order for her, I think that I'm going to like her. I do already, of course. But just, like her more. I don't know how much but... I have that feeling. I can't explain it. It's just there.

Suddenly I sense someone in front of me. Oh it's the guy. He's looking a little annoyed, and when I start to place my order he rolls his eyes and purses his lips. I accidentally do one of Guinevere's fillings wrong and forget that she doesn't want sweetcorn. I explain to the guy and he glowers at me then dumps the whole sandwich into bin. He starts over again but I can see his nostrils flaring every time I say something. I finally finish and pay him. He chucks two cups at me and goes into the kitchen straight away with a huff. He doesn't even check in my Subcard. Rude. I certainly won't be coming here again.

I carry our subs back to the table and nudge her slightly on the shoulder. She peeks up under her cap and looks around. Then she takes her own meal and dives into it.

"I wasn't sure what drink you wanted so I just got Sprite." I explain as she takes the lid off her drink and looks in.

"It's okay, I like Sprite." she says and pops the straw in the hole.

I dig in to my own chicken sub and watch her drink.

The way she drinks it, it's just, so innocent. Her cheeks all sucked in and her lips contracting a little every time she drinks some. Occasionally she scrunches her nose as some of the fizz goes the wrong way. It's so cute. I chuckle and she suddenly looks up and notices my gaze. She quickly averts her eyes and just wraps her slender fingers around the drink. I lower my gaze to my own drink and grin. She's the cutest girl I have ever met. Cute, but not in a forced or fake way either, the way normal girls are. They usually flick their hair, bat their eyelashes and pout, but Guinevere... Guinevere doesn't even have to do any of that. She makes me smile by just looking at me.

Eurghh. I shake my head quickly. I'm turning into a girl. Getting all soft and lovey. Disgusting. My mind drifts away again. I wonder what she'll do to me when we actually date. _If _we actually date.

"Arthur?" her voice brings me out of my reverie.

"Yes?"

"You've got some-" she motions towards my shirt and I look down. Oh. The mayo's dripped out of the bread and onto my suit. Great. Father'll kill me. I take my napkin and rub it, but just make it worse, making it smear all over it.

She laughs a little. "No, you don't do it like that. Here, let me." She comes over and leans over me. Her oh so feminine scent washes over me and I lose all train of thought.

"Arthur?" I open my half-closed eyes and see her hand waving in front of me. "Look." She dabs it gently then gets a wet wipe from her pocket (it seems to be a thing with women, to carry the strangest things in their pockets.) and wipes it away. I almost groan as she touches my chest again, and rubs it, trying to get rid of the water. All I feel is the strangest tingling sensation that makes me feel like I'm up in the air.

She frowns and scrunches her eyebrows together. She pats the slightly damp patch on my chest. "It will feel a bit wet at first but it's just water so it'll dry soon enough." She backs away quickly, realizing how close she is to me and sits back down.

I take a deep breath and wrap the rest of my sandwich and put it in a little plastic bag. "I think I've finished."

"Me too." She's gone back into quiet mode.

"Are you going to take away that last bit you have there?" I ask, pointing to her half-eaten roll.

"Uh, yes. Merlin might like it." They have such a normal family. I never share anything with Morgana. Just the thought of it is scary.

I stand up and gather my wallet and the jacket. Ugh. There's a bit of chicken in the corner of my mouth. I instinctively raise my hand up to wipe it with my sleeve then remember what Guinevere told me on the second bus drive. She's obviously thinking about it too because she's looking at me with a small smile on her lips as I grab a hankerchief -her hankerchief- from my left pocket and wipe my mouth with it. She raises her eyebrow as she notices that it's _her _hanky but doesn't comment.

"Have you got everything?" she asks, looking under the table, on the chair, for anything she might have forgotten. Such a woman.

"Yep, I think so." I say and tuck in my shirt.

"Well, thank you for the-" she suddenly pulls her cap on and turns to the wall. Eh? Oh. A customer's just come in. Or a worker. She probably is cos she goes behind the counter and into the kitchen.

"Is she gone?" she whispers, looking sideways at the doorway.

"Yep." I whisper back. As she relaxes and straightens her jacket out, I frown. What is it with her and... well, people? Sometimes she seems normal but other times, she's as paranoid as hell. It's the same question that's been skirting my mind for days now, since I saw her. Her shadowed personality, flickering eyes, the ways her fingers fidget nervously. What's going on?

I return to earth and grin at her. "Well, thanks for the nice meal."

"No, thank you for it. I promise I'll take you out someday in return." Oh my god. Has she just asked me out on a date? I can't believe it.

I suppress my surprise and grin widely. "I'd like that."

She smiles at me. Properly. For the first time. Her whole face lights up and I see a glimmer behind those dark eyes of hers.

I cough and look away. "I should be going back to work now. Father will kill me otherwise."

"Goodbye." She waves and wanders off into an alleyway, out of my vision.

I stare after her shadow long disappears and stand there, in front of the shop for what seems like ages.

My phone rings slightly in my pocket. Father, probably. Or Leon or someone.

"Hello?" I say.

"Arthur. Where _are _you? You're half an hour late! Mrs Huston's been in and just left because you weren't there!" Father's voice wakes me from my trance.

"Pardon?" I look at my watch and curse. Damn, I've been in there for longer than I thought. I _knew _I should've set an alarm or something.

"I'll be back in five minutes, sir."

"You better be." He growls and I hang up.

Arghhh. How can a day turn from wonderful to horrible in the matter of 3 minutes?

_Of course it can,_ a little voice says in my head. _If you're Arthur Pendragon. _

And I just happen to be Arthur Pendragon.

Hmphh.


	8. Chapter 8

There aren't any meetings today but there's a awards ceremony in a few months time so Father's making all of us work extra hard, and won't even let me go out for lunch after yesterday's 'scandal'.It's a bit hard for me to do so without my client present, but hey, I'm a pro at this. And pros don't need their clients right in front of them. They just go and do it. Like I will. Hopefully.

I flick through Huston's file and her criminal records. Nothing I don't know already. She was born in 1973, stole a packet of Haribos when she was 11, got married at 23 to some rich bloke in his 50s, blah blah blah. The typical young-girl-marries-rich-old-bloke-for-his-money situation. They always end up with the girl killing the poor old man for money. We get one of those every month. Boring.

Unless of course, in Huston's case, she's earned enough of her own money with her make-up business that she doesn't need Mister's money anymore. That makes it a little less boring. Cos he doesn't want to divorce her but she wants to divorce him. It was actually pretty funny when she first walked in with an old grandpa of 70 something ranting about how she wants a divorce now because he raped her or something.

Raped her? Him? He's rolling round in a wheelchair, for goodness' sake with a busted leg and half an arm. I doubt he'd be able to undo his flies, let alone pull out his ding dong and rape her. Seriously, woman. _Y__ou're_ probably the one who raped _him._

My advice to her was just wait a few months and you won't have to bother with the divorce. He'll be dead and then you'll lose _him_, but gain the money. I'm not being insensitive or anything- I'm just telling the truth. Make him happy for the next few weeks and hoorah, you'll be killing two birds with one stone.

Whatever. I want to take my mind off Huston and her kind for now. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. My mind drifts again to _her. _Her. Guinevere. It's been doing that for the last few days and it's confusing the hell outta me. I've never had this feeling before and this weird clingy feeling on my side is not doing any favors to my already messed-up brain. I need to get rid of it or at least try to get used to it. Maybe I'll start with making a fact file on her. Not what most people would do, but hey, I'm a solicitor! Collecting information about people is all I do most of the time.

Okay. I open up a word document and start typing.

_First name: Amy-May__  
_

_Middle name: Guinevere_

_Surname: ..._

Hmm. What _is _her surname? Google'll probably tell me. I boot up my desktop and load up Chrome. It takes a while to load and I sit there glaring at it for five whole minutes before it finally decides to shift its arse a bit. Seriously. Father should think about spending his money on more useful things like Wifi routers in every office rather than paying those slimy gay lords a grand to scrape off gum off every desk in the entire building. And most of us don't even chew gum.

About time, I think, as the familiar Google homepage winks at me. I quickly type 'Guinevere' into the search-box and then delete it. That's her middle name. I replace it with 'Amy-May', her first name. In half a nanosecond, over 10 million results pop up. Wow. She _is _famous. I click on the first entry- an article by a gossip website or something written a couple of years ago.

_... that Costello has 'disappeared' from the face of the earth. The 13-year-old actress, who has been acting since the age of 3 months, has left the show business as abruptly as she entered it. Her debut, 'The Family Tree' was an instant hit and it was predicted that 'Facing You', the movie she was in the middle of filming at the time of her disappearance, was going to be an international sensation as well. She was reported to have vanished on 23rd January 2004, not long after her 13th birthday, and has not been seen since._

So if she was 13 in 2004, that must make her a... 1991 baby. So a year younger than me. That's good. I don't like older women. I scroll down the page a bit.

_Costello has no family, and was brought up under a guardian who died a year before her disappearance with lung cancer. She was brought up by the government since her death. _

What about Merlin, then? Wasn't he there? I am getting more and more confused with every second. I scoot my chair closer and continue reading, my frown deepening as I carry on.

_It is suspected that she has gone into hiding after her recent scandal. (Unfortunately it has been removed from the internet by strict orders from the government.) If she has really gone into hiding, where is she now? If anyone finds any information about her, please contact the number above. Here is a digitally enhanced photographic impression of her of what she probably looks like now, at 20 years of age._

I scroll down to the image and laugh at the photo. It looks _nothing _like her. No wonder nobody's had any success in finding her. This image and her are poles apart. Ten poles apart, even.

"What are you smiling at, buddy?" Lancelot saunters into the room and sits on the corner of my desk. I hear some seams pop quietly as he shifts his bum round. I'll have to remember to scrub that bit extra hard the next time I have a spring clean.

"What?"

"What's that?" He points at my computer screen and I quickly minimize it.

"Nothing." I say.

He smirks. "Gotta be something if you're trying to hide it so bad." He takes a pencil out of my pencil pot and twiddles it around his stubby fingers. "Show me."

"No." I say shortly.

"Fine. I'll just go then." Wha-? He's just leaving without me asking him to? What on earth...

"Okay, bye Du Lac." I wave and put up the website again. Suddenly he turns around and shoots back to my side.

He stares at the picture in front of him and a slow smile spreads across his face. "So _that _was it! You were jerking off looking at that!" He bends over with laughter and I stare at him.

"No!" I protest as he slaps me on the back and looks at me.

"But seriously, my friend-"

"I'm not your friend."

"Whatever. Haven't you been introduced to the world of _porn _yet?" Unfortunately, thanks to Gwaine, I have. Thanks to Gwaine, I was introduced to it a few years younger than I should've. Who knows how innocent I might be now if he hadn't been so... eager to show me the wonders of the world of xxx-rated movies a few years ago._  
_

I shiver, just thinking about the first time he showed me one of those clips and sigh. "Yes, I have."

"Then you should now there are loads of photos out there which are way better than this one. Look, I'll just show you-"

"NO!" I yell and shove him away from my keyboard. "Don't you know Uther monitors _every thing _we go on? He'd skin me alive if he knew I was looking at... at such... _debauchery_! I'm surprised he hasn't skinned _you _alive, what with you going on those websites everyday!" I pant and he smirks. "You shouldn't even be here, Du Lac, he told us not to leave our offices until the end of the day, remember?"

Lancelot raises an eyebrow at me and chuckles. "Fine. Do it your way. Be daddy's boy." He shakes his head and walks away to the door. "I thought you were so much more than this, Pendragon." He laughs bitterly. "Now I know they weren't lying when they said you were a little sucker." He twists his mouth into a deformed smile and leaves casually, leaving me there fuming. How _dare _he accuse me of being a sucker. If he knew how 'close' Father and I were, I swear...

I sigh. No one can know about that. About what happened 3 years ago. Never.

My phone beeps in my pocket. Damn. Forgot to put it on silent. It's a text from Guinevere.

_Gwen: Is this Arthur? _

Oh, probably Merlin again.

_Me: Is this Merlin?_

_Gwen: Is this Arthur?_

_Me: Yes. Is this Merlin?_

_Gwen: Prove that you're Arthur._

_Me: How?_

_Gwen: Where did you first meet Gwen?_

_Me: On the bus...? Why?_

_Gwen: Nothing. It's me now. Gwen._

_Me: Yes?_

_Gwen: I was wondering if you would like to eat with me. _

Eat with me? She is sooo cute.

_Me: I'd love to :)_

_Me: Where?_

_Gwen: Au Coeur de Paris._

_Me: The french place?_

_Gwen: Yes._

_Me: When?_

_Gwen: Tonight at 6:30? Or tomorrow night if that works better for you. _

_Me: Tonight's fine. Where do you live? I have a car so I'll pick you up._

_Gwen: No. It's fine. Merlin can drive me there. I'll meet you tonight at Au Coeur de Paris at 6:30 sharp._

_Me: Great. See you later :) Bye. _

A wide grin splits my face. I punch the air with my fist and bite my lip to stop myself from yelling. My earlier mood forgotten, I move across to the computer and start doing all of the coursework I'm filing for this case so I can leave work early. Father can't say anything against it if I don't have anything left to do.

My fingers start aching half an hour later after typing up all the legal documents I should've finished weeks ago. I put my feet up and stretch my fingers.

My father takes this opportunity to come in. Not when I'm working super hard, oh no, when I've taken just _2 seconds _to have a rest. Talk about Murphy's Law.

"What are you doing, Arthur? Having a nap while everybody else is working?"

"No, just-"

He cuts me off with a glare. "Do you know what will happen if you don't work?"

"Yes-"

He silences me again. "No you don't. Mrs Huston is one of our most valuable clients and if you cannot handle the work she is asking of you, well."He lets out a long breath. "There may be the possibility that it could just be handed over to someone more _capable. _Someone like... Lancelot." I glare at him and he glares back. He knows how much I hate the guy.

"You wouldn't dare." I say, anguish lacing my words.

He smiles at me. "Really? Don't you know I'm a man of my word?" I keep quiet and keep glaring at him. "You obviously don't know the full extent of my power, Arthur. How I can take away every last bit of happiness in your life, and make you the most miserable man on this planet." He curled his lips and ruffled my hair. "Get on with your documents now."

I can't believe it. I've been ticked off by the two guys I despise most in this world and all in the same day. I wish... I wish they were dead. I know it's wrong, murder, especially murdering your own father, but anyone with a father like him would understand. You cannot live with him. Maybe that's the reason I chose crazy Morgana over him. Maybe.

_Gwen: Are you alright, mate? _

I stare at the text. How does Merlin know about this? Is he telepathic?

_Me: I'm fine. How did you know?_

_Gwen: Just. Gwen says see you later._

That brings a small smile to my face. The thought of her. I want to see her smile again. Her real smile. That's my goal. To make her smile like that everyday for the rest of her life.

Smile.


	9. Chapter 9

6 o'clock. Nearly time for my date/ going-out thing with Guinevere. And I'm as nervous as hell.

I've been in and out of the closet for the last 2 hours, trying to decide what to wear. The restaurant's not formal enough to wear a suit, but just a simple t-shirt and jeans wouldn't cut it. I've tried on all sorts of things; baseball caps, fancy dress, basketball shorts, skinny jeans, ripped jeans, pink jeans, even. All the clothes in my entire closet, which is pretty big for a man, does not suit the occasion. Oh god, I feel like a girl.

After finally deciding on a pair of skinny jeans and a shirt, I wave goodbye to a partying Morgana and get into my Ferrari. Before I leave, I do a mental checklist of everything. Wallet- check. Cash- check. Credit card- check. Jacket- check. Hanky- check. Phone- check. Car keys- check. Me- check.

Hooray, I haven't forgotten anything. For once. I start up the engine and make sure there's enough fuel in the tank. The restaurant's not that far away but this thing is old and guzzles up petrol like Morgana does alcohol. I turn on the headlights and start making my way there. It's my first time there so I use a TomTom, which of course, I will hide as soon as I get there. Women expect men to be Einsteins when it comes to cars, and seem to think that we have Google maps inscribed in our heads. Not necessarily true, but hey, they don't need to know that.

TomTom says it'll take me 10 minutes to get there, which would give me a few minutes to compose myself and make myself look like I've been there for ages. Women like that too.

I arrive 5 minutes early, as my old buddy TomTom predicted and find a parking spot not to far away so I don't have to walk much afterwards. I put away my friend and get a parking ticket. There aren't many parking inspectors around as far as I can see but I don't want to get caught up in one of those things after a hopefully nice night. I walk into the old vintage place through the flappy doors and sit down in the little wooden benches they have inside.

True to her word, 3 minutes later, she pops in through the door and waves at me. She's wearing a nice flowy cream-coloured scarf this time which looks pretty good on her skin tone. I can't see what she's wearing underneath her coat though. A dress or something by the looks of it. She walks up to me and extends her hand. I shake it and laugh. Her eyes crinkle slightly as she smiles through her scarf and sits down next to me.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long." she says, her voice a little muffled through the fabric.

"Just a couple of minutes." I reply.

"I've booked a reservation for us, but..." she looks at me a little expectantly and I smile.

"What name did you put it down under?"

"Emrys. E-M-R-Y-S." she says, spelling it out carefully.

"I thought your surname was Costello?"

"Emrys is Merlin's surname." she says shortly and I take the hint and leave. I go up to a waiter and repeat what she said, well, repeat it a couple of times and even write it down for him until he finally understands. He says something about weeing and points to a table in the far corner. I motion for Guinevere to come and she follows me to our little booth.

We both settle down and put our coats to the side and she looks around at all the little bits of crockery and French dolls and all the bits and bobs they've scattered around here and there.

"This is nice." I finally say.

"Yes." she smiles at me shyly and pulls down her scarf a little. "Do you want to have a look at the menu?"

"Yes, thanks." she passes me a worn bit of old leather that's supposed to be a menu. Impressive. I open up the bit of cow-skin gingerly, half expecting it to fall apart in my hand. Surprisingly it doesn't. I have a look at the starters and raise an eyebrow. This restaurant must be terribly posh. It has the strangest names for its appetizers.

_Salade de Chevre Chaud._

_Saumon au Champagne. _

It's almost like...

Oh my god the menu's in bloody French. I look over at Guinevere and find that she's not saying anything. She looks as if she actually understands the frickin' language. As I continue reading down, I start to regret sleeping in all my French lessons at school. I can just make out the _Salade de Tomates _as a tomato salad but anything other than that is beyond me. I guess tomato salad it is then. What about the main course then? Shit, shit, double shit...

"Have you decided what you're going to have for your appetizer yet?" Guinevere's soft voice interrupts my little swearing monologue.

"Umm, Salade de Tomates." I say.

"Oh. Merlin told me that that tastes like beetroot." she scoots around and points at another one. "Why don't you try Soupe a L'oignon Grantinee?" Wow. I'm no genius when it comes to accents, but hers sounded perfect. All ooh-la-la and bonjour je suis French kind of thing. Exactly like the accent the French girl I dated a few years back had.

"Uh, sure."

She obviously senses my dumbness because she pats my shoulder. "You don't understand this, do you?"

"Non, mademoiselle."

She laughs. "Okay, I''ll translate it for you. Look. This one, Salade de Chevre Chaud, is like warm goat cheese salad. Saumon au Champagne is salmon in shallot sauce. It sounds fancy but it is revolting. Merlin threw up the last time he had it." I laugh this time and she continues reading to me, pointing to each one as we go along, commenting on them as she talks.

"So what would you like?" she backs away a little and my arm feels a little cold from where she rested hers.

"Ummm, the smoked chicken thing. This one." I point to the one I _think _is that one, but I'm not entirely sure.

"That one's the mushroom soup." Oh, so it's not that one then. "This one is the chicken." A 'Poulet Fume "Paysanne". Fancy.

"I'll call the waiter." I say before she asks me. I do have initiative, you know. She quickly tells me what she wants and I practice my accent Francais before waving him over. I try to copy Guinevere's accent and after a couple of tries, the waiter catches on and takes down the order.

"Que souhaitez-vous boire?" he says. What? I look over at Guinevere who's hiding behind a napkin and realize she can't see me. Damn. What do I say?

One of the few things I've picked up on. "Wee."

"Oui?" he repeats.

"Wee." I say again. Why isn't he leaving? What does 'wee' mean except for pissing?

I can see he's growing a bit impatient now. "Que souhaitez-vous boire?" I think he knows I can't speak French now.

"Non." I hear a whisper in my ear. "Say 'non'."

"Non." I repeat.

He rolls his eyes and gives me a tight-lipped smile. "Merci." He goes away, obviously annoyed, waving his hands about in the air, the thing French people do when they're annoyed.

"Thanks for that." I turn around and find that she's gone back to her side of the table.

"It was nothing." she replies.

"How do you know French?" I ask, curious. With her career and all, it can't have been possible to fit French lessons into her schedule.

She shrugs. "Oh. I don't know. I just know it." She pulls up her scarf again as someone passes our table.

"Are you French?"

"No. I'm pretty sure I'm English."

"That's weird." I frown. This girl is making my brain work faster than it ever has before.

"What do you do, Arthur?" she says, shifting gears.

"For work?" She nods. "I'm a lawyer. Solicitor, to be exact." People are always impressed when I say I'm a lawyer. They think the job's God-given or something.

"Wow. That's very cool." Told you so. "What do you do?"

"I'm a family solicitor so I give people advice about family matters. Marriage, divorce, kids, blah blah blah. " She leans in, interested.

"So whose case are you working on now?"

"A woman called Mrs Huston. She's trying to get a divorce from her 70-year-old husband."

Her brown eyes widen. "_70-year-old husband_? How old is she?"

"40."

"She married a man 30 years older than her? Why?" Oh my. Nobody's had this much interest in my work since, well, never. I'm beginning to like this one more now.

"You know how young girls in their 20s marry rich blokes to get there money when they die?" She nods. "Well, Huston didn't predict that she'd become richer than him or that she would fall in love with another guy. A younger guy."

"Oh! So she married him for money but then started a business or inherited some money which made her richer than him, meaning that she had no longer any need for him. But that wouldn't make her point any more valid. She must have had some accusation against him, otherwise she has no chance of getting a divorce. Unless he wants it too." Hmm. She's smart, I'll give her that. Smarter than anybody I've ever met.

"Well, Guinevere, let me ask you one question. Have you ever thought about becoming a lawyer?" She burst out laughing and I did a little celebratory dance in my mind. She should really laugh more. It makes her whole face light up and the way her eyes slightly crinkle at the edge is so cute. Then suddenly in a matter of two seconds, her face turns from one of complete happiness to one of no emotion whatsoever.

"Guinev-"

"Voici votre hors-d'oeuvre." Oh, the waiter. Only it's a different waiter this time. He puts down my chicken in front of me and puts Guinevere's goat cheese salad in front of her. She's pulled her scarf up completely so only her eyes are visible and he looks at her weirdly. I mutter a 'mercy' which is supposed to be thank you in French. See, I'm learning.

"These look very tasty." she lowers her scarf and pokes her fork into her salad. "How is yours?"

"Very nice, thanks." She's good at this. Changing subjects in the blink of an eye and doing it without hesitation. Not a skill I would normally associate with a 21-year-old young woman who hasn't had much dating experience by the looks of it.

"The cheese it excellent." she chews thoughtfully, daintily, almost princess-like. But natural. Like she's not even thinking about it. Unlike all those other girls out there who pretend to be damsels in distress while I'm around and as soon as I'm gone they're pigs in distress. They start eating with their hands and stuff food in their mouths as if they've been starved for days and as soon as I return from the loos they're back to princess mode. It's quite funny to watch, actually.

I try a bit of my chicken in the wrap thingy. Wow. No wonder French cooks are so fat. If they eat stuff like _this _everyday it's no wonder they're the size of three double decker buses. I take another bite and close my eyes. It is absolutely divine. Tender and well cooked, the vegetables in it complementing it very nicely. I have to come here again some other time. With Guinevere. I look over at her over the top of my wrap and smile. She looks as if she's enjoying hers too, licking her pink lips now and again._  
_

"Is it good?" I ask her.

She nods vigorously, her mouth full. She swallow it down quickly and puts her fork down. "I don't think I'll be able to eat the main meal if I have any more of this."

I push away my half-eaten chicken too. "Me neither. Should we order now?"

"Yes." I pass her a menu and get one for myself. Oh yeah. I forgot it was in French. "Uhh, Guinevere..."

She looks up and laughs. "Okay. I'm coming." She comes over to my side again, and translates the dishes she likes and the dishes Merlin likes. "The rest of them are trash. Not good enough to be called French food." she scowls and passes the menu back to me.

"I think I'll have the cod."

"The one with the olives and potato puree?"

I nod. "Yep. That one looks nice."

"Merlin likes it too, because it's healthy. He's such a health freak!" she exclaims.

"Oh. I just liked the look of it." I say, grinning.

She smiles and goes back to her seat. "This is my order. It looks pretty healthy, so... " she trails off. I look at the little thumbnail. Mussels and some seafoody stuff. Nice. I think that would've been my second-choice actually. It looks really good.

"I'll order again, this time. Try to get my pronunciation right." I wave at a female waitress this time and she flies over. I say the orders to her in French but she shakes her head and looks at me with a puzzled expression. I repeat it again, slowly but then she laughs.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't speak French." Oh. Well. I sit there with a stunned expression and Guinevere's heard too, it seems because her eyes are twinkling over her scarf.

I look up at the waitress again and grin. "I don't either."

She laughs too and takes down my order in English which takes much less time than the other one did. She leaves and Guinevere pulls down her scarf.

"Oh my!" she pulls down her scarf and looks at me, half a smile on her face.

I cross my arms and huff. "I can't believe it! All that practice going ooh-la-la and I end up with an English waiter! How is this _fair_?" I moan.

"I don't think fair comes into it, Arthur." she says, giggling.

"Hmphh." I cross my arms and pout.

"Maybe you'll get another chance. When you go to France sometime in the future."

"I don't think so. France is too far away-"

"It's just an hour away!"

"Still. I have no reason to go to France. That's the down side of being a lawyer. You don't get any international trips or anything like other businessmen." I grumble.

"I can't say anything against that because I'm not a businesswoman myself, but I imagine they don't go on business trips all the time."

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do not."

"You're such a child, Guinevere." I tease her, poking her across the table with the pepper grinder.

"You started it, Arthur." she returns.

I look at her for a moment. Her wide brown eyes, her light coffee colored skin. I've never come across a girl like this. I suddenly remember the picture I found on the internet earlier today. I think I've got it in my pocket somewhere... Aha. I take it out and show it to her.

"Have you seen this before?" She glances at it and nods.

"On that gossip website." she sighs.

"It doesn't look anything like you." I say.

"I know. They did it wrong."

"What d'you mean?"

"They didn't hire a professional. It's obvious. No one could have a nose that pretty or eyes that round. And all the bits are out of proportion." I look at the picture again. She's right. It is.

"But the public think you look like this right?"

"Some people do. There was another more accurate photo made, but it wasn't published so not many people know about it." she says.

I stay quiet for a minute then ask her a question I've been wanting to ask for ages. "I researched you, you know. Today."

"Yes." she says.

"You were a pretty good actress then, right?"

"That's what they said." she says, shrugging the compliment off.

"If you were so good, why did you quit?" I finally get it out.

She's silent for a while, pondering over her answer. "There was a... incident. I-"

"Here's your meals. Have a nice evening!" The English waitress comes back with our dinners and the moment's gone. She lowers her eyes and starts eating slowly. I pick up my own fork and knife and start eating my cod. It's good, better than the starter, but we eat in awkward silence and the earlier mood is gone.

"Arthur." I look up in surprise and she looks straight at me. "Look. I've said this before but I'll say it again. Going out with me, dating me, isn't a good idea. I'm not the right person for you, Arthur. You deserve better."

"Guinevere I don't understand-"

"And you never will. Nobody's ever understood, not even Merlin, and nobody ever will. I-"

I cut her off. "Is it that you don't like me?" It's a stupid question, sounds stupid anyway, but right now I feel like my whole world depends on it.

She looks at me with a ghost of a smile on her face. "I like you. You're funny, you're nice, you're wonderful. But that isn't the problem." She takes out her purse and puts a fifty pound note on the table. She stands up and covers her face again and rushes outside. What? She likes me but what isn't the problem. No, that isn't the problem here. I have to get her. She can't have gone that far. I put on my jacket and collect all my stuff and rush outside after her.

Where is she? Dammit, if she's gone... I see a glint of something as the moonlight reflects off something by the pavilion. Is it her? There's someone there, but... I can't make her out. I run a little closer. It is her.

I sprint to her and grab her arm before she can leave. "Guinevere. Wait." I sit down and pull her down next to me. "Why did you run off like that?"

She lowers her head and mumbles. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking. I don't know why I got so worked up." She looks up at me and smiles a little sheepishly. "It's my first time at relationships and-"

"Your first time? You mean I'm your first?" Then I realize what I've just said and backpedal rapidly. "I mean, not your _first _first, but-"

She laughs. "I know what you mean." I let go of her arm and relax a little. Confrontation's much easier with a lighter atmosphere.

"What was that all about then?" I ask.

"I don't know. I seem to do that a lot around you. Mood changes and stuff." she sighs.

"Can you tell me what's going on?"

"No." Her answer surprises me. She touches my hand and turns away. "I can't tell you what's going on. It's too complicated."

"Because we've only been dating a week?"

"It doesn't feel like that." I know what she means. It feels like I've known her for ages. I don't know her, but... I know her. She's right. It is complicated.

"I know." I say.

"Just know that it's not anything to do with me not liking you, because I do. It's just-"

"Something else you can't talk about." I finish.

She smiles wryly. "Yes."

"I'm still not leaving you though." I say.

She doesn't respond and we sit in silence for a while, in the moonlight.

Suddenly her phone rings.

"Merlin?" Oh, her brother.

There's a faint murmur from the phone.

"It's okay, I'm fine. It just went on for a bit longer than expected."

She makes a face at the phone and scowls.

"Be quiet, Merlin."

She rolls her eyes and drums her fingers on her lap.

"Fine, I'm coming home now, big brother."

"Bye." She puts her phone away and stands up.

"Merlin want's me back home."

"I know. I heard." I say and stand up too. "Didn't you say Merlin drove you here? Do you want a drive home?"

"Oh. Oh, right. If that's okay with you."

"Of course it is." I say and we walk together to the car. Thank goodness I didn't park it too far away, otherwise we'd both be frosticles. I open the door for her and she jumps in and warms herself up as soon as she gets into the car. I jump in and turn on the heater so we defrost as quickly as possible. After I get warmed up enough, I start the engine and drive out of the parking spot. Oh, shit. I don't know the way from here. Using a TomTom isn't good for my image.

"Do you need a TomTom?"

"What?"

"A navigation. You'll probably need one. My house is quite far away." Oh thank god for that. At least I have an excuse now.

"That would be a good idea." I get out my navi and hand it to her. She taps in her post code and TomTom does its wonders. In a matter of seconds, there's a red virtual road laid out right in front of me.

"So what do you do for a living?" I ask her while keeping my eyes on the road.

"I don't work. Merlin works. And I have enough money from dad and mum to keep me going for another 5 years or so."

"Oh, they died, didn't they? I'm sorry." I really am. I know what it feels like to grow up without one parent, but two, it must have been hard for her.

"It's okay. It was when I was only little and I didn't even know them that well."

"Are they Merlin's parents too?" It's only a guess but I'm pretty sure it's right.

"How did you guess that they weren't?" she asks, puzzled.

"Just. The website said you didn't have any other relatives so I just kinda deduced it, I guess."

"Merlin's my adopted brother. Cousin, friend, whatever you'd like to call him. He looked after me since I, you know, left the stage."

"So arghh-" I swerve quickly as a duck waddles in front of us. "he's just like a guardian, then."

"Yes, I guess so. I knew him since I was 5 so it's not like I was sleeping in a stranger's house or anything."

I laugh. "That's good to know."

"What about you? Do you have a sister?"

"Yeah. A half-sister. Morgana."

"Is she nice?" Ha. Nice. Nice isn't the word I'd use to describe her.

"She's... eccentric. She has..." Should I tell her about Morgana's bipolar? What would her reaction be? Most people are really shocked and horrified and run away from me screaming, but I don't think she's that kind of person. "Bipolar disorder. Manic depression."

"Oh. That must be hard for her. And you." Her sympathetic response doesn't surprise me much. As I said, I knew she'd be the kind sort, just looking at her actions. She's the type of person you just know will be kind and friendly, even without knowing them properly.

"It's not serious. But when she gets drunk, it gets quite hard." I don't know why I'm telling her this. This is private. A shameful secret I thought I'd never tell anyone.

"Alcohol infuses it, doesn't it? And it makes one hyperactive, which isn't very good for any mental disorder."

I smile sideways at her. "You sound like you know a lot about it."

"I don't." she says shortly and clams up. I've touched a sensitive spot, I realize. Maybe Merlin's got a disorder as well. Anyhow, I don't speak about it anymore and we just converse more about my work.

She was right, her house is far away. Half an hour away from the restaurant. We arrive there at half-past eight. Her house is quite small. A bungalow. Very old-fashioned and vintage. Roses on vines, a wooden door, the lot. I get out and open the door for her and she steps out. She shivers slightly in the frosty weather and I usher her towards the door.

She turns around and faces me. "Thank you for tonight."

"It was my pleasure." I say.

"Good night." she whispers.

"Good night. Guinevere."

Neither of us make a move. I stare down deep into her dark eyes and feel myself being pulled down, like a magnet. As my lips meet hers, I feel like a thousand fireworks have just exploded on my lips. She presses her lips against mine and I nearly die right there on her porch. I've never felt so much emotion in my entire life. All the sex, all the kisses, everything, they don't compare with this chaste meeting of our lips.

As she starts to pull away, I feel myself hang on to her, to her lips until we finally separate. I open my eyes and find myself staring at Guinevere's flushed face.

"I should go." she mumbles and quickly turns away and rushes into her house.

What did I do wrong? What just happened? I slowly make my way back into the car and drive back home, still dazed by her.

As I lie on my bed I close my eyes and I know that tonight, not even Morgana will be able to wake me from my dream. I know I'll dream about her. As I probably will do every night for the next few months.

_Guinevere._

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the awfully long chapter. I'll try to shorten them in the future :) Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello! I just wanted to say sorry for not updating for so long. I do go to school, and it's the exam season in the UK so it's been quite a busy week, preparing for GCSEs and stuff. So basically not much time to update my stories, so once again, sorry. It'll be a bit better in the next couple of weeks (I hope).**

**Thanks!**

* * *

"Oi! Arthur!" I turn around to see Gwaine bounding up to me. He thumps me on the shoulder and grins. "Where have you been, man? I haven't seen you in ages!"

"A few days, Gwaine, that's it. I think you can survive without me for a couple of days." I say.

"I doubt it. Anyway, what's up? Why haven't you called or anything over the last week? Leon says you're avoiding him too."

"I'm not _avoiding _him. Or you! I'm just really busy nowadays. You know what Uther's like around the awards season. All work and no play." I roll my eyes and sigh. Gwaine laughs and gives me a look.

"It must be hard. So how have you been over the last few days? I hope you haven't caught a cold or anything. The weather's not been terribly nice the past few days, has it? I myself had to call in for a couple of days last week because of a gigantic cold I had." he says and puts his arm around my shoulders. What? He doesn't even _have _a job, and as far as I know he's never had one. I don't actually know _how _he survives in this harsh world, but somehow he does.

He looks at me sympathetically again and I start to grow suspicious. "What are you talking about?"

He grins and takes a deep breath. "Fine I'll just say it. Leon told me that you and Gwen had a snog fest and got into a threesome with her brother and that she humped her brother and now she's pregnant with his baby and you're depressed because she's not having your baby."

I stop in my tracks. What the fuck?! Where did Gwaine, no, _Leon_ get that from? What the hell? Snog fest? Threesome? With her _brother_ who doesn't even like her staying out later than 10? I seriously doubt it. Pregnant? I haven't even snogged her yet, for goodness' sake. I've kissed her once, yes, but I doubt that she gets pregnant from a _kiss. _Otherwise I've impregnated hundreds, no, _thousands _of women. Oh my god I am going to kill Leon when I get my hands on him.

"What the hell Gwaine? Where the fuck did you get all that shit?" I ask, enraged. I do not stand ridiculous accusations, especially none that include Guinevere.

"Just, you know... Leon said-"

"I don't care a shit about what Leon said- it's not true!" I yell and Gwaine backs off.

"So you didn't have a snog fest?"

"No!"

"Or a threesome?"

"Of course not!"

"With her brother?"

"Complete shit."

Gwaine looks at me slyly for a second.

"So you haven't even kissed her yet?"

I go slightly red and shrug. "I have kissed her but-"

Gwaine suddenly jumps up and punches the air with his fist. "I KNEW it! I knew you wouldn't have been able to resist! I doubted it but, YES! You have done it, man, you have! Oh, Leon's going to love this when he finds out..." he dances in the middle of the street and I stare at him. What is he talking about? I thought he knew?

"Gwaine, what d'you mean? I'm not getting you here..."

"You don't need to get it, my friend. Oh no, no, no, don't look at me like that, shortcake, it's nothing dirty, man,"

"Then tell me!" It's really frustrating when someone hides something from you and doesn't tell you. Drives me crazy, it does, being the slightly inquisitive person that I am.

"No." he says. Arghhh. He quickly changes the subject before I break his nose. "So, if you didn't bang her-"

"Gwaine!"

"I didn't say you did! Anyway, what did you do last night then?"

I calm down and shrug. "We had some dinner at the French place."

"And you kissed her." Oh yes. The kiss. That was the best part. Just leaning in and smelling the slight waft of her perfume, the feel her lips on mine and how-

Gwaine snaps his fingers in front of my face. "Hey! Earth to shortie, Earth to shortie, come back, come back, Earth to shortie, Earth to shortie," he waves his hand in front of my face and I blink.

"What?"

"You zoned out there for a second. Thinking about her?"

I smile. Just the thought of her makes me smile even though she hasn't actually _done _anything to make me do so. Weird. "Yeah. She's... wonderful."

Gwaine stares at me for a second and starts to smile. "You'll fallen for her bad, haven't you?"

I sigh. Falling for someone isn't always a good thing. "Yeah, I have." He thumps me on the back and chuckles.

"But I swear Leon told me you've only been on a couple of dates with her. _And _you've only kissed her a few times." he raises his eyebrow slightly.

He's right. It's something that's been on my mind since the moment I saw her. It's strange, the interaction I've had with her is barely nothing compared to that I've had with all the other girls. Even the shy ones weren't as reserved as her, and after a date or two we would actually be having a snog fest. But with Guinevere it's different. It's like she's guarding her thoughts, her expressions. It makes it hard for me to make a move, because I have no idea whether she'll be okay with it or not. I can't read her face, whether she's happy or sad, angry, confused; I don't get it. Sure, women as a species are a difficult bunch to read, but she's like queen of secrets. There're times when I see parts of her though, when she laughs, for one, when she smiles that beautiful smile of hers, but then the moment's gone and her face's a mask again. If it were any other girl I'd leave but with her I can't seem to. It's like I'm chained to her and I can't leave whether I want to or not. The whole thing's crazy. I'm crazy.

I return to Gwaine and shake my head. "It's not making any sense to me either. I don't know anything about her but I feel like I've known her for ages. I dunno what's happening to me! I'm going all _mushy_ and girly and-"

"You're in love." Gwaine says. I'm in _love_? What? I don't even know what love is, and apparently I'm in love? Love, love, love, that's all they say, but what _is _it? Oh my god, my life does not make any fucking sense. I've fallen into something I don't have a clue about. I have a mental sister who's in la-la land most of the time. I'm going out with a famous girl who's not famous anymore but was in the- what the heck am I talking about? _I _don't even know. Maybe Morgana's madness is rubbing off on me. Wouldn't be surprised- this isn't the first time this week that I've felt like I should be in an a mental asylum singing Mamma Mia in the rain rather than here among normal people.

I look at Gwaine who's looking rather smug. "I don't think I am. It's probably just a crush or something." I say, and try to dismiss the thought.

"I doubt it highly." Gwaine smirks and nudges me. "Sooooo... when do I get to meet your celebrity girlfriend?"

"Never if you're just going to use her to line your own pockets."

Gwaine widens his eyes and gives me his innocent look. Which is as far from innocent as it gets. "No way! I wouldn't dream of it! Never!" He shakes his head vigorously and waves his arms about in the air. Talk about overreacting.

"You know you're totally giving yourself away." I say and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, okay, I won't do it. But I actually do want to meet her. You know, the really cool feeling you get when you meet your favorite celebrity?"

"No."

"Well, there is one, and I want to feel like that."

"So?"

"Gwen's my favorite actress so when I meet her I'm going to get that feeling!" he opens his arms with a flourish while I just give him a we-are-not-amused look.

"IF you meet her. I never said you would."

"Yeah, I guess but still you could-"

My phone rings in my pocket. Guinevere.

"Hello?"

"Hello Arthur."

"Oh, Guinevere! It's nice of you to call. How can I help you?" Gwaine suddenly looks all excited as he hears Guinevere's voice over the phone. He goes totally silent, trying to catch a word or two over my voice.

"Didn't you call me?"

"Huh? No, I don't think I did..."

"Oh. Well, my phone said you did a couple of minutes ago while I was in the kitchen so I thought you wanted to say something."

"Umm, well, I don't think I have anything I want to say right now so I'll call you-" Gwaine suddenly grabs the phone from my hand and puts it to his ear.

"Hello, my little cupcake." he growls down the line, obviously trying to sound sexy. Poor Guinevere.

He puts it on speakerphone so I can hear too. Her voice floats out of the speaker and Gwaine smiles. "Uhh, Arthur?"

"No, not Arthur. This is Gwaineeeee." he drags his voice and I hear Guinevere cough at the other end. I should really put an end to her misery right now.

"Oh."

"How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine but-"

"I would just _loveee _to have you in my bed right now." he growls and my jaw drops. Oh my god, what is he trying to _do _to her?

She coughs again and mumbles something.

"I can just imagine having you right here, against this wall-"

"GWAINE!" I yell and try to grab the phone but he runs off a couple of meters before I can get it. Oh my _gooood, _what is Guinevere going to think?

"Ohhhh, darling," Gwaine moans and I hear Guinevere panicking on the other end.

"Please-"

"Your legs feel so goooood..."

"SHUT UP AND PUT ARTHUR BACK ON YOU PERV!" Guinevere suddenly yells and I cover my ears. Oh my gosh, I never knew her voice was that loud. I never knew she could get so annoyed. I didn't think she was able to speak any louder than the way she normally whispers. But hey, since it's with Gwaine, it's understandable. Even a saint wouldn't be able to keep his temper with my sex-mad friend.

Gwaine stares at my phone in complete bewilderment and I smother my laugh with my sleeve. I bet he's never had _that _kind of response from a woman before.

He glares at the phone and then at me. "Fine! Go back to talking about teacakes and muffins with _Arthur._" he huffs and shoves my phone back into my hands. He goes up and leans against the wall, his arms crossed. Baby.

I laugh and get back to Guinevere before she decides to hang up on me. "Guinevere?" I say, still laughing. Oh my god, Gwaine's gone into full pout mode, his hair waving about like it wants to murder me. I chuckle and put the phone back on handset mode so he doesn't overhear whatever she has to say. In case it's, you know... inappropriate.

"Hello again, Arthur." she's giggling. I laugh again and she starts laughing along with me and I smile. Her laugh's really pretty. All tinkly and magical and _free. _A contrast from her usual reserved manner, which is quite nice for a change. We both die down a little and I turn away slightly from Gwaine.

"I'm sorry about Gwaine, he got a bit over-excited." I apologize.

"I know. Why was he so excited about talking to me?" she says, a smile in her voice.

I clear my throat and glance at Gwaine. "He's a big fan of yours."

"Oh. He's the one who told you about me, right?"

"Yep."

"He wants something, doesn't he?" Damn, maybe she is psychic. Either that or we're both very easy to read. Hopefully neither; it's never a good sign if a girl shows the ability to read minds. She always finds out if you're cheating on her or planning to dump her, which puts her either on full rant mode or flirty I'm-going-to-get-you-back-whatever-it-takes mode. I think I prefer the first actually; it gets rather scary when the girl starts to pout and flick her hair in my face. Not only does it make my face itch, but it also makes it difficult for me to move on to another one.

I look at Gwaine again and exhale deeply. "He wants to meet you, if that's okay." Gwaine's face suddenly lights up and he runs up to me like a stupid puppy. He's such a child, he is, the way he goes from happy to sad and sad to happy. Always does it. Like with that tiny argument with Leon. He'd deny it of course.

"Oh." she says again. "Well, I wouldn't mind as long as he doesn't, you know..."

"I promise he won't sell you out." I say sincerely.

"Huh?"

"You know, those magazine companies who are still going after your photo or something. I won't let him do that."

She suddenly laughs. "Oh no, don't worry about _that. _They wouldn't recognize me if I myself sent them a photo of me."

"Then why do you go around covering your face?"

She goes quiet and I grimace. I've poked one of her sensitive spots. Hopefully she's one of those people who have a good temper. Please, please, please...

"I... I... I'll tell you later. It's not anything to do with the press, though, I assure you. So when do I get to meet your friend again?" she asks and I sigh in relief. I thought I'd almost lost her then. Phew.

"How about tomorrow? Or tonight?"

"Maybe tomorrow. Merlin caught a cold yesterday and I have to tend to him tonight."

"Of course. We'll see you tomorrow, at- oh, where do we meet?"

"I don't mind where. What about the park? We can get hot chocolate or a coffee from the shop they have there, if you want."

Gwaine nods and gives me a thumbs up and I grin. "He's happy with it and so am I. We'll see you tomorrow then."

"Okay. Goodbye, Arthur. Don't be late."

I hang up and smile. She's opening up with me. I can tell. She's not as quiet as before and she's carrying the conversation more. I like that. I like her. Yes, I do. I like her. A lot.

Maybe I'll be lucky this time. 23rd time lucky.

Hopefully maybe.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hello?"

"Guinevere! This is Arthur." I say as I spread some Nutella on my morning toast.

"Hello! How are you?" she answers brightly over the phone.

"I'm good, thanks. I was actually calling to ask you if you were alright."

"I'm fine, thank you. It's a bit cold but seeing as I'm not dead yet..." I laugh and take a bite of my toast.

"Gwaine just called to say that he's been kind of frozen in and can't make it today."

"I didn't think that we'd be able to because of the weather anyway." she sighs.

I finish my toast and pour myself a glass of milk. "It's not that great today, is it?"

"It's horrible. My pipes have frozen over overnight so I can't get any washing done even though I need to get these sheets done by tonight." she says, her voice full of worry.

"You're a washerwoman?" I ask, confused.

"No!" she laughs, "It's just that Merlin needs some new sheets after he wet them yesterday-" I hear a yell in the background that's probably from Merlin and Guinevere laughs again. "- and I don't have any spare after I forgot to wash them last week."

"Is there anything I can do?"

She sighs and I hear some rustling in the background. "I don't think so. Unless you're a plumber, of course."

"Well, I think you're in luck today Guinevere," I say confidently with a grin on my face, "I'm not a professional plumber but I've fixed my pipes after they froze over too last night. And I've done an okay job." I really did. No joke. I used an old trick the butler once showed me after a snowstorm hit London for no good reason. And it's worked every time the pipes have decided to rebel. Which isn't actually that often, but still, it saves a lot of money.

"Really? Do you think you could...?" Her voice trails off towards the end and I smile at her shyness. It's so cute.

"Sure. Since we're not meeting with Gwaine today and there's no work today, I guess I can. What time should I go?"

"Whenever you're ready. I don't mind." she replies and I stop myself from immediately saying _Now! _

"I'm free all day, actually."

"So how about... now?" Wow. Exactly what I was hoping.

"Sure!" I say a little bit too enthusiastically. "I'll head over straight away!"

I say my good bye and hang up. I rush to the bedroom and get dressed in lightning speed despite the numbing coldness slowly biting into me. In five minutes I finish getting ready and fly outside and leap into my car.

And off to Guinevere's I go.

* * *

Ten minutes later Guinevere opens the door and her jaw drops.

"How... you... I..." she stutters trying to make sense of how I got ready and drove all the way here in 15 minutes on a 30 minute journey. All it actually takes is a very eager man and a lot of luck. Simple really.

"I told you I'd come over straight away," I say and flash a grin at her surprised face. She laughs and shakes her head and quickly lets me in before her house gets even colder than it already is.

I walk inside and it's my jaw that drops this time.

Her house is just... wow. It's like one of those houses in a fairytale, with knitted stuff all over the walls and fluffy teddy bears over a fireplace. She has little patchwork blankets on the sofa and embroidered stuff hanging around. There's even a wooden rocking chair in the corner and candles instead of electric lights.

"Your house is so cool!" I exclaim as she comes back with a glass of water for me.

"Oh, it's nothing, really." she says and hands me my water. "It's just some leftover water I had in the teapot from last night, sorry. And sorry again that fI couldn't get you anything warm because the electricity's not very good in my house and I usually heat everything up over a fire but you came so quickly-" I laugh and take a drink from my glass.

"It's alright, Guinevere, tea water's fine for me." she bites her lower lip and looks up at me with a slight smile on her face. Our eyes lock and I feel myself drown once again in her mesmerizing chocolate depths, her gaze pulling me in like a magnet, making it impossible for me to look away. I've never seen such eyes like hers. They're so beautiful; deep brown with flecks of gold here and there, but it's not their color that intrigues me, it's the emotion behind them that draws me in. I've never seen so much pain and grief and basically so much in a young woman's eyes before. The perturbation in them doesn't match her age; she's seen and heard too much in her short life; I can see that in her eyes.

"GWEN!" Suddenly a male voice yells from the back of the bungalow and Guinevere tears her gaze away from mine. She quickly hurries off into the back of the house and I follow her into a small room, decorated in a totally different fashion from the living room, all modern and hi-tech. There are weird books and stuff everywhere, dust everywhere, strange statues and sculptures dotted around on the shelves.

"You must be Arthur." A sharp voice calls me from the middle of the room. I turn and see a small head peeping over the thick layer of sheets and blankets covering the body and I shuffle closer to get a better view.

"You're... Merlin?" I ask and raise my eyebrows slightly. This... this... _this_ is Guinevere's brother? Or supposed to be?

Merlin stares at me through his piercing emerald eyes and purses his lips. "Yes, I am. Why? Problem?" Guinevere looks at us nervously for a second then quickly jumps in between.

"I haven't introduced you two yet, have I?" she laughs anxiously and bites her lower lip. "Well, Arthur, this is my friend/ adopted brother Merlin." He grudgingly shakes my hand and immediately pulls back, still scrutinizing my every move.

"And Merlin, this is my, my, erm, my..." she stutters helplessly as she tries to find the suitable word to describe our bizarre relationship.

"Friend. I'm her friend." I say and she nods vigorously at us and I nod too.

"Yes, that's it. He's my friend. Merlin, Arthur, Arthur, Merlin." she says and goes quiet as she notices Merlin's continuous stare-a-thon at me. It's seriously creeping me out now. It's like he's sifting through every thing in my mind, examining it, diagnosing it. As she nervously returns to his side to give him his medicine, I slowly edge out of the room and close the door behind me as soon as I can.

_Oh my bloody god. _I think as I rest my head against the wall. And I thought Leon and Gwaine were weird. Compared to this _Merlin _they're normal Normans from Normalville. Oh my god, his eyes, especially. Different from Guinevere's; all piercing and cold. Calculating. Not in an evil way, I don't think, but still in a seriously disturbing way. Like he's trying to work out how many different ways how I can be hurt, but not actually thinking of hurting me. If that makes sense. It's a troubling thought anyhow.

While I wait for her, I kind of have a self-guided tour of her house. It's quite small and there's only one floor so I figure it won't take long. I stroll back into the living room and start off at the fireplace where there are lots of little ornaments and crockery and stuff. There are a variety of things; knitted teddy bears, china dolls, little ballerinas, candles, nutcrackers, even a mini tea set. I smile at the photos of a cute little boy, Merlin, I suspect, although I can't really imagine him as a child. He has the same sharp glint in his eye, I notice, the same curious, observant look he has now. There aren't really any of Guinevere as a child though, ironically, since there are thousands of her on the web. As I make my way around the room, I notice it's kind of the same for every photograph. There aren't actually any of her. Just Merlin- every single one is of Merlin.

"What are you doing?" Guinevere's voice pulls me away from the photos and I turn around quickly, feeling unnecessarily guilty.

"I was just having a look around the house." I answer truthfully.

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"Oh, well. Merlin was very cute as a child." I say and she smiles.

"Yes, he was."

"You were too, actually."

"Maybe." she says and coughs. "Well, I'll show you where the pipes are and you can, umm, do your thing there." she motions for me to follow and goes into the room that I suspect is the kitchen. I chuckle quietly as I quickly scan the small room. It looks exactly like one of those kitchens in one of those books Morgana showed me a couple of years ago. A stone oven, dried herbs all around, fresh flowers on the windowsill. Quite a nice change, actually, from the usual modern condo.

"So where are the pipes?" I ask.

"Over here, under the sink. I'm not sure if it's around here that they've frozen but, I guess you'll be able to tell."

"Uhh, sure. Course I will." I set down all my equipment and get down on all fours. She nods down at me and sits down on a chair nearby and just watches me feel the pipes.

I start off at the bit closest to the taps, and work my way down, trying to feel for the coldest area, which is probably where it's frozen over. I kind of keep touching up the pipes, with Guinevere looking at me a little strangely until I find the frozen bit.

"Aha!" I say under my breath and reach behind to get a couple of towels and stuff to put under that bit lest there be a leak.

"Do you need more towels?" she asks from behind, her hand touching my shoulder lightly.

I shake my head and smile up at her. "No, I think I have enough. But thank you anyway." she smiles back and returns to her seat and I turn back to my pipes. There doesn't actually appear to be a leak, but just in case, I shift all the stuff back a little so they don't get damaged.

"Guinevere, is there anything down here that you don't want ruined?" I ask.

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Just in case the pipe leaks, you know, your stuff might get a bit wet."

"It's all bottles and washing up stuff down there, isn't it?" she asks and I have a quick look around.

I nod and remove my head from under the sink. "Yep, looks like it."

"Then it's okay."

I nod again and drape some towels over them, even though she said it would be okay. Let's be professional and impress her. I then turn off the thing that looks like the thing the butler told me was the stop tap and stand up to stretch a bit. Arghhh, my knees are _killing _me. So are my legs. So is everything. Oh my god, that is painful. My kitchen at home has a little rug so it doesn't hurt as much but here all there is is a plastic mat, which isn't _as _comfortable as my nice fluffy, thick, warm rug._  
_

After my body doesn't feel like it's just been in a wrestling match, I lean over the sink and try to work out which of the taps is the cold one. The problem with old taps is that they don't really have the handy coloring system where hot is red and cold is blue. They're both just metal and look exactly the same. And since there isn't actually any water, I can't work out which one's which by just testing it.

"Errr, Guinevere?" I say as I prod the taps a little.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to keep bothering you but which one's the cold one?"

"The cold one?"

"Uh huh. You know, the one that releases cold water instead of hot water."

She looks momentarily confused. "I don't think we actually have a hot and cold tap. If I want hot water I just boil the cold water so-"

"They're both cold water taps?"

"I think so."

"Oh." I say and scratch my head. Well that makes my job a whole lot easier. But wow, she _boils _her water to get hot water? That's pretty cool but at the same time really tiresome. It must take _ages _for her to prepare a bath then. Unless she doesn't wash, of course. People back then didn't really-

_No, stop thinking weird thoughts, Pendragon. Get back to work. _I say and mentally slap myself.

I turn on the tap on the right and then crouch back down and get my portable hairdryer that I keep for occasions like these. Luckily it doesn't need mains electricity, just batteries, so I can use it here where there isn't actually any visible sockets anywhere.

"You carry a hairdryer around?" Guinevere's quizzical voice floats down again and I grin.

"Yes, I do." I say, over the roar, and put it down a notch to make it quieter. "And a comb and curling tongs too, in case I feel a sudden urge to become a hairdresser."

"Really?" she says and giggles. "I think you'd look great in those flowery aprons they wear, actually. Good enough for hairdresser of the year." I laugh loudly at this, and she joins in behind me, her twinkly melodious laugh warming the cold air.

A couple of minutes later I turn the stop tap back on and suddenly hear a quiet squeal from behind and I look up to see a few drops of water dripping into the sink. I turn off the hairdryer and stand up to survey my amazing handiwork. Guinevere comes up excitedly from behind and watches the few drops become trickles and the trickles become a nice regular flow until it looks like it's back to normal.

She leaps up in the air and suddenly wraps her arms around my neck, catching me by surprise. She's _hugging _me? Wha...? I can't say I'm complaining though. Her hair and her arms and her face and well, her body, feel amazingly good against mine, I have to admit. Not in the sexual way, but in the nice, this-feels-right way. I smile and kind of just pat her back awkwardly, not knowing if she wants me to hug her back or just stand there, knowing that hugging her back might be a little too fast for her but if I don't, it'll look like I don't _want _to hug her, even though I do. I keep debating inside of my head when all of a sudden she releases me and takes a step back, looking surprised herself at her own actions.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean too..." she says and bites her finger nervously. "I just wanted to say thank you and I just-"

"You're welcome." I reply, chuckling a little as I turn the tap off before her water bills go sky high. "And don't apologize, it was okay." I say, and she goes the darkest shade of rose, even her little ears going dusty pink. I look down at her properly for the first time then; her sweet oval face, smooth coffee-colored skin, unique almond-shaped eyes, slanting nose, full dusky lips and cute little ears, peeking out under a halo of chestnut curls. She's certainly not a classically beautiful English Rose like Vivian or Elena, more like an exotic amaryllis, where you don't see the beauty straight away, but the longer you look at it, the more radiant it seems.

"Arthur?"

"Huh?" I say stupidly and blink. "Yes?"

"It's just that, you were... you know, staring. At me. Or at something." she stammers.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize." _Yes you did. _A little voice says inside my head but I ignore it and just smile at Guinevere dumbly. "Well, I'll pack my things up and go then." I say and crouch down for the millionth time to tidy up and put everything back where it was. After I stuff everything back into the duffel bag, I stand up and grin at her. "All done."

"That's great. Thank you once again, I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't washed them."

"I'm guessing that Merlin wouldn't be a very happy chap." I say and she laughs.

"No, he wouldn't be." she says and smiles as she leads me out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

I zip up my coat and put on my gloves and rub my hands together. "I'll be going then."

"Goodbye, and thank you for coming, Arthur." she says, touching my arm, then opens the door for me, letting a cold gust of wind blow in.

"Call me if you have any problems with it and I'll come over." I tell her and she smiles.

"I will." I wave her goodbye and she waves back, shivering slightly in the cold. I motion for her to go back inside and she nods, gratefully, I think, and gives me a final wave before walking back in and closing the door behind her, but not before giving me one last smile. After she's gone I pull up my hood and cross my arms, blocking out as much cold as possible. I slowly make my way across her driveway, making sure that I don't slip on the slightly icy pavement.

I just reach my car when I hear a faint shout behind me. I ignore it at first, thinking it's just the wind, but then the 'wind' calls my name and I turn around to see Guinevere frantically waving her arms at me. I pull back my hood to try and hear what she's trying to say. Something along the lines of 'Arthur du tab earth e'.

"WHAT?" I shout and she yells something back that I don't quite catch. She yells it again then gives up and runs forward in her thin cardigan and dress. I walk gingerly across the ice to meet her in the middle. About ten hours later I finally make it back to her porch, panting.

"Yes?" I pant.

"Sorry for making you run like that," she says, her face slightly red from running.

I laugh and shake my head. "That was hardly running. More like waddling."

She smiles. "I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for lunch, actually. I should've asked before you left, really, to save you the running, but I clean forgot and it was only after I saw the lasagna that I remembered that I was going to ask you and-"

"I'd love to have lunch with you, actually." I interrupt her little explanation and smile down at her cute little face, redder now.

"Oh. Well. Umm, I have lasagna that I made last night, but neither Merlin nor I ate it so it's untouched but if you want-" she starts talking again and I chuckle at her adorableness.

"Why don't we go in first, okay?" I say and she blushes and nods a little sheepishly at me.

We go back into her house and I smile slightly.

I'm getting through to her. I know I am.

I'm not all the way there yet, but hopefully someday I'll be there. In her heart.

Like she is in mine.

* * *

**A/N: I've had to divide this scene because otherwise the chapter would be too long, so that's why the ending's not very good. Anyway, thank you for your support and I'm sorry I'm such a rubbish writer. I do try to be more fluent, but English not being my first language (I'm South Korean), it's pretty difficult. Love you all and sorry for the wait.**


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